


Stranger Than Fiction

by MartyMuses



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Literary, Angst, Aspiring Writer Yuuri, Drama, Emotional, Expectations gap, Famous Writer Victor, Idolization, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, Longing, M/M, Pining, Romance, Smut, Travel, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2018-12-15 11:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 59,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartyMuses/pseuds/MartyMuses
Summary: Thousands of miles from home, Yuuri Katsuki is traveling through Europe searching for that intangible something he’s missing. At the same time, Yuuri’s literary idol, famous Russian author Victor Nikiforov, struggles in the iron grip of writer’s block, devoid of inspiration. Unexpectedly their lives come crashing together in a whirlwind of idolization, inspiration, obsession, and desire. But where does fantasy end and reality begin? Can two souls so desperately seeking meaning actually find it in one another?





	1. Strangers on a Train

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sheepskeleton](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sheepskeleton).



> Welcome to my next YOI fanfiction project! I'm so excited about this story. It snuck up on me completely unexpectedly after my friend messaged me a picture of a sleeping stranger on a train (she was only trying to take a picture of the guy's bag, she swears). I'd been struggling to decide my next project and then all of a sudden the inspiration was there and we were off to the races. 
> 
> I want to thank my beta'er Tmirai and my friend Sheepskeleton (she's the one who sent me the picture) for their immediate love and enthusiasm for this story. I'm so excited to share it with you! 
> 
> You can follow my YOI fanfiction writing blog (martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com) for announcements, information, and, well just more YOI stuff. Feel free to drop me a line, ask a question, or just say hi. ^^

The faint, rhythmic clacking of the the train’s progress accompanied Chris as he moved from one car to the next, searching for a seat. He was slightly out of breath, having ran to avoid taking the next train, which wasn’t leaving for another half an hour.

The seats started to open up as he moved into the rear cars. With a soft sigh, he slid into one of the table seats occupied by one other passenger. Looking up from arranging his bag and coat in the empty seat next to him, he was about to say something to the other man sitting across from him. But he realized that he was asleep.

There was probably some unspoken social more about staring at sleeping strangers on trains. But Chris had never been one to give too many fucks about what was or wasn’t socially acceptable. And he liked to study people. To wonder about them and their origins. Their motivations. So he didn’t feel any shame in staring at the sleeping young man.

He probably looked younger in sleep than he actually was. Most people did. The smoothness of his skin, his slightly parted lips, and the slackness of brow did nothing to dispel the impression of youth. He was handsome, or maybe even pretty was a more appropriate word. Pretty in that way Asian men could be without seeming effeminate.

His head was propped against the window and it bounced gently in rhythm with the train. Occasionally his long, dark eyelashes fluttered behind his glasses as if he was dreaming.

But none of those things were what Chris found most interesting about the young man now sharing his train seat. What was most interesting was the way his hand rested on the cover of a thick book on the table. His long fingers were gently curled ever so slightly with the tension of clinging onto something. What was even _more_ interesting were the words printed on the spine: _Stay Close to Me_ by Victor Nikiforov.

From the looks of the book it had been very well read. The cover was a little discolored and the spine was broken in many places and dented at one corner. So either it was a secondhand purchase, or else this pretty young man had read the book quite a lot. And the possessive way his hand seemed to almost embrace the cover suggested it was the later.

“Interesting,” Chris said under his breath as he pulled his phone out of his bag. His lips curled mischievously as he aimed the camera at the sleeping beauty, snapping a quick photo.

With a chuckle he sat back, the smile growing as he sent a text.

Some six or more countries away (depending on how you counted) Victor Nikiforov raised his head off of his arms at the sound of his phone chiming. He’d been in that position, slumped over his writing desk, face buried in his arms, for the better part of an hour. The pattern of his sweater’s weave left a red relief against one of his cheeks. His hair was disheveled and possibly hadn’t been washed for a couple of days.

He was a man trapped in the ennui of writer’s block.

Usually when he was writing he would be disciplined and turn his phone off. But he’d made so little progress in the past few days that it had ceased to matter. Almost like a man clutching for a lifeline he picked up the phone, hungry for any distraction.

C:     _Want to see something interesting?_

He blinked at the message from Chris.

V:     _Please. Anything. I want to kill myself.”_

C:     :eyeroll: _You are so dramatic. Still not making any progress?_

V: _I don’t want to talk about it. What did you want to show me?_

C _:_ _Just something nice I saw on the train today. ;)_

Furrowed his brows at the cryptic response, Victor sighed, standing up suddenly from his desk. He collected three different half-drunk mugs of tea and headed to the kitchen, waiting for whatever it was that Chris wanted to show him.

Just as he was reaching to turn on the electric kettle to make himself another mug of tea - which he would probably only drink about half of - Victor’s phone chimed again. He was used to his close friend’s weird moods and frivolous texts, so he didn’t imagine that anything Chris could send him would surprise him.

He was wrong.

First there was the vague and startling sensation that he was looking at something that he shouldn’t. This sleeping person, oblivious to his gaze, yet utterly vulnerable to it. Why would Chris send him something like this? It almost felt... lewd. But, then again, that was very Chris.

C: _See? A fan!_  

A fan? Victor’s eyes returned to the image and it was only because he was looking for it that he saw the book on the table. He snorted and couldn’t help but smirk a little as he zoomed in to read the title.

It was the English translation of _Stay Close to Me_ , his debut work _._ He’d written that book when he was so young, still an undergraduate. At the time he’d been so proud of it, but now he thought mostly of the flaws in the writing of his younger self. It has been lauded as a promising debut and a glimmer of hope for the return of great Russian literature. His works since had gained far more critical acclaim. So much so that he hardly ever thought about that first book anymore.

Yet this stranger on a train halfway across Europe slept so peacefully, his hand holding poised against the cover almost in a caress. Victor wondered what it meant to him. Did he love it? Hate it? Was he reading it for pleasure, or for a class? Was he even a student?

Curious, he began to study the young man more thoroughly. He was quite lovely, and so completely unguarded. Probably a tourist making his way through Europe. If he was from Switzerland he might be reading the French or German translation instead. Or maybe not. Maybe he just liked reading in English.

His thumb passed over the young man’s sleeping face and his phone chimed again, startling him. Why was his heart beating so fast?

C _:_ _Did it cheer you up?_

Victor snorted and finished turning on the kettle.

 _V:_ _More like it concerns me that you are taking pictures of strangers and distributing them._

C:     _I thought you would like to know there is a pretty fan of yours on my train._ _  
_ _Maybe help you out of your slump._

That made Victor’s nostrils flare as he pulled the cream out of his refrigerator. He started typing furiously with one thumb.

 _V:_ _I am not in a slump!_ _  
_ _This is all part of the natural writer’s process._

C:     _Your next novel was expected on shelves almost a year ago._  
_You haven’t written anything in months._ _  
_ I think that’s a slump.

Victor’s eyes narrowed and he took a deep, measured breath, trying not to bang his clean mug on the counter as he set it down.

 _V:_ _So much for your supportive friend schtick._

 _C:_ _I am being supportive! I’m just trying to show you the world is waiting._ _  
_ _Don’t give up._

 _V:_ _Who said I had?!_

 _C:_ _This beautiful boy is waiting for you._ _  
_ _Write for him. ;)_

Was he waiting for him? Did he really love his writing? Victor couldn’t help but scroll back up to look at the picture. The way the young man’s hand rested on the book made it look like it was precious to him. It filled him with an aching feeling somewhere between melancholy and happiness.

Victor waited a few minutes to respond to Chris, leaving his phone face up on the counter, still displaying the picture. His eyes wandered to it again and again as he finished making his tea. Finally, almost reluctantly, he scrolled back down to type a response as he walked back to his desk.

 _V:_ _You are the creepiest person I know._

Settling back into his chair felt like going into battle. He stared at the screen of his computer and the end of the half finished sentence where his cursor sat blinking. Then he highlighted the entirety of the last chapter he’d been working on and hit the delete button.

 _V:_ _I’m going back to work. TTYL_

Chris chuckled and smiled wryly as he tucked his phone back into his bag just as a friendly female voice came over the intercom, announcing the next station. The young sleeper came awake with a jolt that disturbed his glasses and made his leg kick out under the table, connecting with Chris’ shin.

“Wh-what station is this? Is this Lucerne?” the young man asked blearily in slightly accented English.

“Oww...” Chris grunted, reaching under the table to rub his leg. “No, it’s two stops before Lucerne.”

The young man’s head swiveled around, his eyes wide behind his glasses as if he’d just realized someone else was there. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, did I kick you?”

Chris chuckled. “Yes, but only a little. I’m fine.”

“I’m so, so sorry! I must have dozed off. I heard the announcement and I guess I... kind of woke up in a panic.” The young man chuckled weakly, looking quite chagrined as he straightened his glasses.

Chris couldn’t help but think that he was even cuter awake than asleep. “Like I said, it’s alright. You were asleep when I sat down. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He smiled charmingly, leaning over the table and extending his hand. “I’m Christophe Giacometti. You can call me Chris. Sounds like we are both going to Lucerne.”

The young man looked at Chris for a moment, his expression slightly puzzled, and then he seemed to remember himself as he reached for his hand. “I’m Yuuri Katsuki. It’s nice to meet you. I’m really sorry about kicking you.”

“I’ve already told you: don’t worry about it.” They shook hands and then both settled back into their seats. “So, Yuuri Katsuki, what brings you to Switzerland?”

“Oh, um... I sort of took some time off to just travel. You know... backpacking through Europe, that kind of thing,” Yuuri smiled at the other man faintly.

“Time off from what?” Chris asked with a grin.

This gave the young man pause, and then he answered with a lopsided smile, “Life, I guess.”

Chris’ eyebrows rose and he made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat. “That’s quite a statement.”

Yuuri smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. His other hand strayed back to cover of _Stay Close to Me_ , and Chris noticed how his fingers moved over it in an almost habitual manner. Like he was taking comfort from it. “Yeah, I know, right? Sounds pretty melodramatic, doesn’t it?”

Chris watched him quietly for a moment, finding himself intrigued and charmed and unable to help but think of Victor. “And where are you from?”

Yuuri lifted his eyes to meet Chris’ again. “Ah, Japan, originally. But America more recently. I’ve been studying there.”

“Oh,” Chris perked a little at that. It explained his very good English and the choice of language for the translation of _Stay Close to Me._ “And what are you studying?”

“Literature, ah... well my bachelor’s degree is in literature. Currently I’m working on my MFA, but to be honest,” he let out a little chuckle, “that’s part of what I’m on break from.”

“Aaaah. A Master’s of Fine Arts. So then you don’t just enjoy reading good literature, you hope to also write it someday?” Chris leaned forward again. His sleepy companion was becoming more and more interesting.

Yuuri’s expression tightened a little and a wall seemed to come up behind his eyes. “Yeah, someday.” His gaze strayed to the book and his fingers moved along the edge of the spine.

Chris decided not to push _that_ subject at the moment. His eyes also moved to the book. “And you are a fan of Victor Nikiforov.”

A spark of life returned to the young man’s eyes at the mention of Victor’s name. “Huh?” He lifted his gaze and saw Chris looking at the book. “Oh! Yes!” He laughed a little and seemed almost sheepish as he picked up the book, turning it over in his hands. “Do you know him? I mean - have you read him? I love his work. It’s so... heartbreaking.”

Chris chuckled. “Yes, I know him. I’ve read all of his work.” He pointed at the book in Yuri’s hands. “But not many people have read his debut novel.”

“I know, but _Stay Close to Me_ is my favorite.” Yuuri smiled softly. “I love everything he’s written, but this one is so... raw. It’s so honest and stripped down. But at the same time it’s full of life. Maybe it’s because he was so young when he wrote it. Can you believe he was only twenty years old when his first novel was published?” Yuuri shook his head as if in amazement. “His writing now is a lot more polished, but there’s something I really love about the raw, rough Victor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri turned the book over in his hands again. “In Japan we have this concept called _wabi-sabi._ It means something like... ‘the beauty of imperfection.’” He looked at Chris with a lopsided smile. “That’s what I love about this book so much. It’s so beautifully imperfect. It’s just like real life.”

Chris listened with raised brows, wondering what Victor would think if he could hear this impassioned monologue about his early writing. “Wow, you’ve really put some thought into this,” he chuckled.

Yuuri blushed a little and rubbed his neck again, but he was still smiling. “Yeah, well... I did write my senior honors thesis about it.”  
  
“Oh? How interesting. You must really be a huge Nikiforov fan. Are you worried that he hasn’t published anything recently?” Chris propped his chin in his hand.

Yuuri put the book down on the table and shook his head firmly. “No. I know a lot of people and critics have speculated that maybe he’s going to stop writing. But I think people hold him to too high a standard just because he’s been so prolific in the past. I mean, he’s released six other books since _Stay Close to Me_ was published. That means he was producing a work of literary genius every 18 months for an entire decade. He couldn’t have had much time to do anything else.” Yuuri smirked wryly and rubbed his finger against the cover of the book. “I think if anything, he deserves a break if he wants one.”

Chris smiled at that. He wished Victor could hear those words. Maybe they would mean something if they came from someone else. “It’s rare to hear a fan say something like that, I think. Most people are so demanding of their idols.”

Yuuri chuckled and looked up from the book. “Well, he may be a literary genius, but even Victor Nikiforov is only human. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait for his next book. But the wait will be worth it if it means he gets to write the book he really wants to.”

Sitting back in his seat, Chris studied the young man for a moment. “You, Yuuri Katsuki, are a very kind and mature young man. How old are you anyway?”

“Uh... twenty-six.”

“Really? I would have guessed younger, but we’re not that far in age. I’m twenty-eight.”

“What?!” Yuuri sat forward, staring at Chris with wide eyes. “I thought you were way older than me.”

Chris laughed. “It’s the facial hair. Makes me look distinguished.”

Yuuri chuckled, sitting back again. Another announcement came over the intercom.

“Next stop is Lucerne, after this one,” Chris told him.

Yuuri nodded. “Thanks.” He smiled at the other man for a moment and then looked out the window to watch the scenery.

Chris watched him for another moment and then pulled his phone back out of his bag.

**DING**

Victor’s eyes darted momentarily from his computer screen to his phone, but he ignored the chime, going back to writing. It felt like something was finally starting to move inside his brain again.

**DING... DING... DING**

His eye twitched.

**DING**

Glancing at his phone again, Victor huffed, but went on writing.

**DING... DING**

With a growl, he finally reached for the phone, not bothering to read the messages before he furiously typed.

 _V:_ _What is wrong with you??? I told you I was going back to work!_ _  
_ _Stop distracting me! I was finally getting somewhere. >:( _

_C:_ _Did you read my messages?_

Sighing through his nose, Victor scrolled up to read the slew of messages.

 _C:_ _His name is Yuuri. He’s Japanese. He’s 26._  
_He’s your biggest fan._  
_He loves your debut novel._  
_He loves the “raw, rough Victor Nikiforov.” ;)_  
_I’m not making that up. He actually said that verbatim._  
_You should come to Lucerne and give him some raw and rough treatment._ _  
_ He’s backpacking through Europe. Shall I send him to St. Petersburg for you? ;)

Victor immediately had to suppress the desire to scroll back up and look at the picture of the sleeping young man - Yuuri - again. His mouth went a little dry.  
  
_V:_ _Why are you stalking this poor boy on the train?_

C: _I’m not stalking him! He woke up. We started talking. He really is your fan._

 _V:_ _Chris, I’m working. Please stop distracting me._ _  
_ _Or I’m going to turn my phone off._

Putting his phone down, Victor flipped the switch to silent before looking back at his computer screen. He stared at the paragraph he’d been working on before Chris’ text bombardment. He was just starting to feel like he could find his way back into the flow when his phone buzzed as it vibrated against his desk.

Victor almost didn’t check the message, but in the end knowing it was there and unread was more of a distraction than just reading the damn thing. Of course he hadn’t expected another clandestine photo.

Yuuri was gazing out of the window. He had a soft, almost sad expression on his face, which was turned in a partial profile.  The sun was just starting to go down and outside the world seemed to be settling into a soft quiet. The soft evening light caught on the metal of the window frame, making his skin almost seem to glow. His hand still rested idly on the cover of _Stay Close to Me._  

He was so vulnerable and soft and ... perfect. The distant look in his eyes. The sweet, but sad twist of his lips. The slightly rumpled quality of his dark hair. Victor could imagine the journey he was on so far from home. The longing in his young heart to find something greater than himself. A stranger on a train in a foreign land. It took his breath away.

C:    _He’s rooting for you. ;)_

A million tiny locks inside Victor’s mind clicked open all at once, and the trickle of movement he’d only just begun to feel again was suddenly a flood.

He afforded the picture only another moment before setting his phone down in its cradle so he could still see the screen. He didn’t bother to close the document he was working on. He just opened a new one. A fresh, blank canvas waiting for his words. Waiting for him, the beautiful Japanese boy on the train.

Yuuri Katsuki, a complete stranger at least six countries away, had become his muse.

Chris waited for a reply, but when one didn’t come he gave up and put his phone back in his bag with a pout. “So, where are you staying in Lucerne?”

“Oh. Um... some hostel. I’ve got the directions on my phone.” Yuuri looked back at Chris, tearing his eyes away from the scenery.

“How long do you plan to stay?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not really working with any kind of definite time table, but I’ve booked the hostel for a week.”

Chris smiled. “You should let me show you around. Take you to some good restaurants, do some sightseeing. You’re traveling all alone. Doesn’t that get lonely?”

Yuuri gawked at the other man. “Uh, I guess... but... I mean, you just met me. Why would you... want to do that for me?”

“Don’t you know? Everyone in Switzerland is really friendly!” Chris laughed.

Furrowing his brows, Yuuri smirked. “That seems like a stereotype that’s probably not actually true.”

Chris laughed again. “Ok, well maybe not everyone. But I like you. You’re interesting. And life is all about the people you meet, right? I promise I’m not some crazy person. It’ll be fun.”

For a moment Yuuri hesitated and then smiled with a shrug. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. What’s the point of having an adventure if you don’t do anything adventurous?”

By the time they reached the station in Lucerne they’d exchanged phone numbers and addresses, and Chris had given Yuuri a few pointers on places he might like to visit while he was in town.

They left the train together, and Chris happily showed Yuuri to the front of the station where he could find a taxi to take him to his hostel. As they started to go their separate ways - Chris towards the parking lot and Yuuri towards the taxis - Chris said, “Alright, so I’ll call you tomorrow. And we can make some plans.”

Yuuri nodded, walking slowly backwards. He smiled. “Yeah that sounds great.” Then he began to turn around. But before he got all the way around he gasped and turned to face Chris again. “I just realized! When you first introduced yourself I thought your name sounded familiar.” He laughed. “That’s why I looked at you funny.”

“Oh?” Chris raised his eyebrows and smiled wryly.

Yuuri laughed again. “Yeah. There’s a pretty famous literary critic who runs a scathing review blog. He goes by C. Giacometti. That must be why I thought it was familiar.”

Canting his head, Chris smiled. “Oh. You know of my blog? How flattering. Though I don’t know if ‘famous’ and ‘literary critic’ can really be put in the same sentence.”

Yuuri blinked, staring at Chris in sudden disbelief. “Huh? Wait... you’re _actually_ C. Giacometti?”

“One and the same!” He waved. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Yuuri!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Strangers on a Train - The title of this chapter comes from a novel by Patricia Highsmith, originally published in 1950. It was later made into a movie of the same name by Alfred Hitchcock. 
> 
> This is quite a departure from Love in Exile. First of all it's in (gasp) third person. Second of all it's not in a historical setting. And thirdly the cast is aged up a little bit. But I hope everyone who loved Love in Exile will love Stranger Than Fiction just as much. And if you are completely new to my writing I'll take this opportunity to plug my recently completed fic, Love in Exile as well. :p 
> 
> You can follow my YOI fanfiction writing blog (martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com) for announcements, information, and, well just more YOI stuff. Feel free to drop me a line, ask a question, or just say hi. ^^


	2. A River Runs Through It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has already checked out my new work. I'm really happy with the positive response just the first chapter has gotten. ^^ I think about this story A LOT. lol 
> 
> Please enjoy chapter two!
> 
> Follow me for updates, info and sass!  
>  **martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com**  
>  **twitter.com/martymuses**

Yuuri had gotten used to eating alone. The cafe he’d been directed to after checking in at the hostel was small, but quite busy for nine o’clock. Eating late, at least later than in the US or Japan, seemed to be the custom in Europe;Yuuri couldn’t deny that there was something liberating about eating a full meal at nine pm.

Sitting alone at a table by a window, Yuuri ordered a plain cheese sandwich, a salad, and a small glass of beer. It had been a long and strange enough day to call for a drink. He pulled out his phone. It was too late to call his parents - it was the middle of the night in Japan - but it wasn’t really his parents he wanted to talk to anyway.

Y: _Hey. You in class?_

Several countries and an entire ocean away, Phichit Chulanot was making his way across a Michigan campus when his phone chimed in his pocket. It was the special ringtone he had set just for Yuuri: the dulcet tones of Freddie Mercury singing “Oooh, you’re my best friend” (from Queen’s 1976 hit of the same name).

He made an excited little sound as he pulled out his phone. Vicariously experiencing Yuuri’s adventures was currently the highlight of his day, since his best friend had abandoned him to carry on his graduate studies alone.

P: _Nope! Just got out. Good timing! Where are you??_

Y _:_ _Lucerne, Switzerland. In a little restaurant._

 _P:_ _Fun! What are you eating? What’s it like? Tell me everything! My life is super boring without you. ;(_

 _Y:_ _Haha. I doubt it._

 _P:_ _It’s true!_

 _Y:_ _I’m eating a cheese sandwich and a salad._ __  
_So far it’s nice. I just got here and it’s dark so I haven’t seen much._ _  
_ _Buuuut... you’ll never believe who I met on the train though._

Yuuri worried his lip a little. He’d debated whether or not to tell Phichit about meeting C. Giacometti. He’d only talked to him briefly, and now looking back on their conversation he was kind of embarrassed at how hard he’d fanboyed over Victor Nikiforov. Especially to someone who was a professional critic.

P: _Victor Nikiforov? ;P_ _  
_ _HAHA! J/k If it had been you’d be in jail right now for molesting him._

 _Y:_ _Riiiight. Like I’d even have enough courage to go up and talk to him. >_>_ _  
_ _Obviously, it wasn’t Victor Nikiforov. But it’s... kinda close..? Someone literary._

 _P:_ _OMG Just tell me._

 _Y:_ _C. Giacometti. The critic who runs that blog!_

 _P:_ _:gasp: OMG! The guy who does “Why Your Book is Shit???”_ _  
_ _Ahahhaha I love that guy! That’s so random!_

 _Y:_ _I had no idea who he was until after I’d already waxed poetic about how much I love “Stay Close to Me.”_ _  
_ _Thinking about it now is pretty embarrassing, actually. ^^;;_

 _P:_ _Let me guess, you were reading it on the train, again._

 _Y:_ _It calms me down._

 _P:_ _;) I know, I know. But still! OMG! That’s so cool!_

 _Y:_ _He got my number and stuff. Said he’d even show me around Lucerne a bit._ __  
_Though he was probably just being polite._  
_I’m not counting on hearing from him again._

 _P:_ _Ugh, Yuuri! Have more faith in people!_ __  
_He probably thinks you’re cuuuuute. >:3_  
_When you see him again ask him to read your book!_

Yuuri paled a little at Phichit’s message. Just reading the words made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his neck, twisting his lips.

Y: _Why? So he can tell me why MY book is shit?_

P: _It’s not though. You’re an amazing writer._ __  
_I think so. Our professors think so._  
_Everyone in class looks forward to critiquing your work._

Y: _Then why can’t I finish even one complete manuscript?_

P: _Because you’re too hard on yourself. :(_ __  
_You gotta let the ending just come._  
Stop trying to force it.

Y: _Easy to say. I’ve been trying to “let it come” for years._

P: Sounds like you need to contact your doctor about an erection lasting more than 4 hours. XD

Yuuri sighed and rolled his eyes, muttering to himself. “Walked right into that one.”

Y: ANYWAY  
_I hate it more every time I read it. -__-_

 _P:_ _Don’t say that. :(_ __  
_Someone like C. Giacometti could really help you._ __  
_He reads thousands of books._ __  
_He probably even knows Victor Nikiforov._  
_Maybe he’s even told him HIS books are shit. XDD_

Yuuri blinked at his phone. It wasn’t until that very moment that he considered that Chris Giacometti probably _would_ know Victor Nikiforov. He’d written reviews of his books and had even posted interviews with him on his blog. His stomach lurched and he felt like he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear into Lucerne forever.

Y: _Oh God. You’re probably right._ _  
_ _I said some really embarrassing shit..._

 _P:_ _LOL OMG Yuuri!_ __  
_What did you say?_  
_Did you go on and on about the perfection of his ‘luminescent’ writing style or some bs?_

 _Y:_ _I think I said something about liking how “raw and rough” he was..._

 _P:_ _:laugh:HAHAHA!_ _  
_ _Oh, I bet you did! ;)_

 _Y:_ _Uuuugh. I wanna die._ _  
_ _I’m finishing this sandwich and going to bed and never waking up._

 _P:_ _At least put a picture of your sandwich on Instagram!_ __  
_You’ve been remiss._  
_Your selfies are all terrible, too >:(_

 _Y:_ _Sorry. You know I’m not really good at that stuff._ _  
_ _I look so awkward in pictures. Selfies just make it worse._

 _P:_ _You don’t give yourself any credit, you know that? :T_ _  
_ _You are super cute._

 _Y:_ _Yes, so you and my mom tell me._ _  
_ _Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. I’m almost done and I am really tired._

 _P:_ _Ok! Bai bai!_ _  
_ _But I’m serious about showing that guy your book!_

Yuuri didn’t bother to answer the last text. He sighed at the whole conversation before turning the screen off and sitting back to look out the window. The street was dark and quaint and he had no idea why he was there.

* * *

There was something about the macabre paintings, their exaggerated, almost distorted forms, that reminded Yuuri a bit of _ukiyo-e_. The bright colors, the dancing skeletons, the horses and battle scenes. They looked like something out of a fairy tale.

He tried not to be in the way as he craned his neck to look up at the painted pediments of the Spreuer Bridge. It was already September, so it wasn’t exactly the height of tourist season in Lucerne, but there were still a number of people making their way across the famous, centuries old covered bridge that crooked its way across the Reuss River.  
  
Leaning against the railing, Yuuri slowly ran his fingers against the centuries old timber. It was smooth, polished by the oils of thousands,  maybe even millions, of hands that had idly passed over it.

He thought about his own touch, now added to these, a faint remnant of himself left in this place forever. The thought was depressing. He didn’t want the smudge of his fingerprints to be the only mark he made on history. He blamed the _Danse Macabre,_ merrily carrying on overhead, for the gloomy atmosphere.

Turning around he looked down into the gray-green water of the Reuss River for a few moments watching it churn against bridge’s pylons. He was startled out of his thoughts by the ringing of his phone. The eyes of a few other walkers cut towards him as he fumbled for his phone in his messenger bag, fingertips brushing against the cover of _Stay Close to Me._

He was surprised to see the incoming call was from Christophe Giacometti. His stomach lurched, remembering the awkward encounter of the previous day, his fanboying over Victor Nikiforov, his incredulity at finding out who Chris was. He hesitated for a few moments, just letting himself marinate in his own self-loathing before answering.  

“Hello?”

“Ah, Yuuri, you answered. Good. Sometimes the reception here is awful. All these mountains. You just never can tell.” Chris’ voice was cheerful.

“Oh. No, I haven’t had any issues so far. What’s... um... what’s up?” he glanced at the other tourists and began walking briskly down the covered bridge.

Chris laughed on the other end of the phone. “I just wanted to see how you were getting on today.”

“Oh, well, I’ve just been walking around the city. Taking in the sights. I was just walking across the Spreuer Bridge when you called.”

“Ah, the _Spreuerbrücke._ It’s pretty fascinating, right? Though I don’t know who’s brilliant idea it was to put a bunch of paintings of death up in a rickety wooden bridge. But that’s medieval Europe for you. Everyone just thinking about death. I blame the plague.”

Yuuri chuckled, smiling a little as he exited the bridge, stepping out onto the river’s quayside. “Yeah, they were... different.”

“So, have you eaten lunch yet?”

Yuuri walked a few yards down the quay and sat on a bench overlooking the river. “Ah, no. I was going to head to the nature and history museums next. Was probably just going to grab something on the go.”

“Ugh, Yuuri, that’s so boring. You’re on a trip. You need to make the most of it. Meet me for coffee and a late lunch. My treat.”

A jolt of mixed excitement and anxiety went through Yuuri as he worried his lip. He really didn’t understand why Chris was being so persistent about meeting up with him again. They’d only talked briefly the day before and most of what he’d said had been really embarrassing. And might even be considered idiotic. But at the same time the draw of companionship and the opportunity to get to know someone like Chris, someone who probably actually _knew_ Victor Nikiforov and any number of other modern literary giants - people he’d only studied and read in class - was just too strong.

What was that saying Americans had? _‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?_ ’ Chris was giving him this amazing opportunity. There was no way he could squander it.

“Yeah, um, that sounds great. You wanna just pick a place? I’m sure my phone can find it for me if I have a name.” He rubbed his palm against his thigh, thinking about Phichit’s suggestion that he tell Chris about his manuscript.

“There’s this cute little place right along the river between the two museums. I don’t know the name. It’s a cafe bar, right there by the _Spreuerbrücke._ You can’t miss it. I’ll wait outside just in case. You certainly can’t miss me.”

Yuuri laughed. “That’s true. Alright. What time?”

“Let’s meet around two.”

“Ok. I’ll see you then,” Yuuri said, looking up and squinting across the river. The place Chris was talking about would have to be almost directly across from him. “And... thanks.”

Chris laughed. “What are you thanking me for? I’m really looking forward to continuing our chat. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Turning around, Chris leaned against his kitchen counter and began to chuckle to himself as he closed out of the phone call and brought up his texts.

C: _Guess who I’m having a coffee date with ;)_

There was no immediate reply, so after a moment Chris sighed in disappointment and walked out of the kitchen towards the couch. He sat down next to the brown haired man working diligently on his laptop and put his feet up on the coffee table.

“What are you so amused about? I could hear you snickering all the way in here,” the other man said, his voice distracted as he worked. 

“Oh, just some fun I’m having with Victor,” Chris said as he reached over to pull a large, white cat into his lap.

The other man paused, turning his head and looked at Chris with a faintly disapproving purse of his lips. “What kind of ‘fun?’”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Johannes. It’s nothing terrible. I just met this cute fan of his on the train yesterday and I’m... cultivating a relationship with him.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows behind his round glasses.

Johannes sighed and folded his hands patiently in his lap on top of his keyboard. “To what end?”

Chris shrugged and pouted a little. “I’m not sure. But I just sort of have this feeling about him.”

“A feeling that...?”

Chris snorted. “I don’t know. Don’t sound so disapproving.”

“I just don’t know what you hope to gain by getting yourself involved with some strange fan of Victor’s.”

Chris sighed and pet his hand over the cat for a moment. “Honestly, I’m not sure either. Victor’s just been in such a slump lately. As a friend I want to be able to help him, but you know how he is, always doing everything by himself. I saw this boy on the train and I just thought... I don’t know. Maybe he could be some kind of inspiration to him. I don’t want him to give up on his writing or think that there’s nobody out there who cares if he publishes again.”

Johannes’ expression softened a little. “Victor doesn’t really seem the type to give up on anything. I think you worry about him too much.”

“Well, he doesn’t have that many friends. Someone has to worry about him,” Chris said defensively.  

Just then his phone chimed and the look of mischievous glee returned to Chris’ face.

V: _Please tell me  you are not stalking that boy from the train._

Chris giggled at the reply.

C: _It’s not stalking if I invited him for coffee and he agreed._ _  
_ _Do you want another picture? ;)_

There was another long pause before a reply came through.

V: _No._ __  
_I told you I’m working._ _  
_ _Stop distracting me with your escapades._

Chris smirked and ignored his boyfriend, who was rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

C: _Is this one of those situations where no means yes?_

V: _No!_

Sighing and pouting a little, Chris put his phone aside so he could pick up his cat, playfully stretching her out over his face and blowing on her belly. She was not impressed and showed as much by batting her tail back and forth.

A few moments later Chris perked when his phone chimed again.

V: _Ok. I lied._ __  
_Yes._ _  
_ _Please. Yes._

The burst of laughter caused the cat to leap off Chris’ lap with an air of indignation. “I knew it!”

* * *

“So you’ve been to Portugal, Spain, and France already. Where are you planning to go next?” Chris asked as he reclined in his chair.

Yuuri shrugged, cradling his coffee cup against his chest. “I’m not sure. I can’t decide if I want to go south to Italy and see the Mediterranean or if I want to head north into Germany and maybe the Baltic.”

“Well, if you take my advice I would go north first. It’s still early in fall, so the weather is still mild. But if you go south first and then north you will have to contend with winter. And you can ask Napoleon how well that turned out.”

Yuuri chuckled and sipped his coffee with a faint smirk. “Well, I don’t know if I’ll go all the way to the Russian front.”

Chris chuckled, “Oh? That’s surprising. As a fan of Victor Nikiforov, I’d think you’d want to visit his home country. Or at least his hometown. Where all the magic happens.”

Yuuri colored and smiled wryly into his coffee. “Well... It’s not that I wouldn’t want to see it, but... I just. Honestly, it makes me kind of nervous thinking about it.”

Chris canted his head to one side. “Why?” he blinked. “Because you think Russia is dangerous, or something?”

“Huh?” Yuuri lifted his head. “No. No, that’s not what I meant. I just... more because...” He twisted his lips and chuckled thinly. “It’s stupid, but I think it makes me nervous because it’s like... he’s _there._ You know?” He rubbed the back of his neck, face still flushed as his gaze cut away and out the window towards the view of the river.

Chris smiled softly. “I suppose I can understand. But I don’t think you should let that stop you.”

Yuuri chuckled and looked back. “Well, and there is the issue of just how long I can afford to stay in Europe. Sooner or later I’m gonna run out of money and have to go back to Japan.”

Sitting forward, Chris propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. “Back to Japan? Not back to the U.S? What about your MFA?”

The question made Yuuri sigh and he set his coffee cup down on the table, turning it slowly between his fingers as he watched the foam inside the cup. “Since I took a sabbatical on my master’s program, it’s likely my study visa will expire before I go back. To prevent that I’d have to enroll in spring semester classes, but...” he took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh, “I don’t see that happening. So more than likely I’ll have to go home and reapply for a visa. Who knows if it’ll be approved after I bailed on my course for no apparent reason. A part of me wonders if it’s even going to be worth trying.”

Chris furrowed his brows and frowned. “If it’s something you really want, then I think it’s always worth trying. Not trying means avoiding disappointment. But it’s also the surest way to never get what you want out of life.”

Yuuri looked up, and for some reason he felt bolder than usual. “The thing is... I don’t know if having my MFA is even really something I _do_ want. What I really want is to be a writer. An author. Someone that can move people with my writing the way Victor does.”

Chris raised his eyebrows at that. “Then why aren’t you writing?”

“I am. I have been. For years. I’ve had a few short stories published in literary magazines and that kind of thing. Nothing major. I even have a manuscript I’ve been working on since I was an undergraduate. But no matter how many times I revise it or edit it or go through the story, I can never find the ending. I’ve tried so many different ways, and none of them are right.” He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I thought that going back to school and getting my MFA would get me there, you know? That if I had this piece of paper that said I knew how to write, that maybe I actually _could_.”

“So that’s why you suddenly decided to take a break from your studies and travel?” Chris asked, earnestly interested.

Yuuri nodded. “Nothing was working. The whole first year of my graduate studies I made no progress whatsoever. I just... had to try something different. A journey of self-discovery across a foreign land sounds so cliche. But I figured, hell it wouldn’t be a cliche if it hadn’t worked at least a few times.”

Chris chuckled. “I suppose that’s true. Traveling can help change your perspective a great deal.”

“Yeah. That’s what I’m hoping.” Yuuri sipped his coffee and twisted his lips. It felt weird to tell someone he hardly knew about all of this, but at the same time it was kind of a relief.

“So, this book of yours. What’s it about?”

“I’m not really sure I know anymore.”

Chris canted his head again, this time to the other side. “Well, maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you just aren’t writing the same book you started out with all those years ago.”

Yuuri twisted his lips. “Maybe. But it seems... heartless to just throw it all away. I don’t know if I could start all over again.”

“Well,” Chris said with a chuckle, “if you want to be a great author, Yuuri, you can’t just write one book.”

“Why not?” he looked at Chris with a sardonic smile. “Harper Lee pulled it off.”

Chris laughed out loud. “Oooh, so you’re looking to write the next _To Kill a Mockingbird._ No wonder you can’t get anything accomplished. No pressure.”     

Yuuri chuckled. “I’m just joking.” He sighed. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I do just need to start all over again.”

Chris sat up straighter in his chair. “Do you write in English?”

“Yeah. Usually. I mean if I wanted to write in Japanese I could probably have just gone to school in Japan.” He smirked wryly.

“Which begs the question... why didn’t you? Why not write in your native language?”

Yuuri shrugged and then looked into his coffee cup again. “Well, for one thing the market in Japan is small, and even if I was successful in Japan there’s no guarantee I’d be successful enough to warrant translations for foreign markets. And even if I was translated... there’s something of me that gets lost in that. At least this way, after studying English for so long, I can do my own translations in both directions.”

“Aaah,” Chris’ eyes lit up a little bit. “Is that why you prefer to read Victor’s work in English rather than in the Japanese translation? Because you know he does his own English translation work?”

Yuuri colored at the sudden comment and how easily Chris saw through him. “Ah... yeah. It’s one reason. It means that when I read him, I know I’m really reading _him_. It’s not someone else’s interpretation of him.”

Chris smiled softly. Victor had always been insistent that he do the English translations of his work himself, knowing it was likely to be the most widely read version. He refused to give up any of his self in his writing.

“Well, since it’s in English, why don’t you let me read it?”

“Huh?” Yuuri stared at Chris over his coffee cup.

“Your manuscript. I assume you have a digital copy, right? Send it to me. Let me read it.”

For a long moment Yuuri just stared at Chris. No, not Chris, C. Giacometti, the well known literary critic/blogger who was acting like this was all just some normal thing. Like he had coffee with wandering book nerd, novelist wannabes every day. The same C. Giacometti who had written reviews of all of Victor Nikiforov’s work. The man who wrote a feature on his blog called “Why Your Book is Shit.” C. Giacometti wanted to read _his_ book.

“What if you hate it?” The words came out in little more than a whisper before he could stop them.

Chris raised his eyebrows at that and then shrugged. “Then I’ll tell you so. But at least I can offer you some constructive feedback, right? I mean, it is my job. What have you got to lose?”

 _“Abandon all hope ye who enter here”_ flashed across Yuuri’s mind. He was scared shitless for someone like Chris to actually read and critique his work. He’d struggled with it for so long, been told by so many professors that he had so much talent, so much _potential._ So why couldn’t he live up to all that potential? Why wasn’t it enough? What was he missing?  

Maybe for once Chris could actually tell him. Or maybe he could tell him once and for all that it really was hopeless. Either way, maybe he could finally move on.

Wasn’t this exactly what he’d come to Europe for in the first place?

“Ok.” He said suddenly, gasping the word as if it surprised him. “Thank you. I’d really appreciate it if you would. I mean... you really don’t have to. I don’t honestly know why you’d want to. I’m... not anybody to you.”

Chris chuckled softly, but his eyes were glittering. “I told you, Yuuri, I like you. I don’t get to use my powers for good very often. So just accept it: I want to read your book.” He pulled out his wallet and produced a business card, sliding it across the table. “Email it to me when you get back to your hostel.”

Yuuri’s fingers shook a little as he picked up the card. His eyes lingered on the bold, fine type. “Thank you. I will.”

“Good!” Chris sat back in his chair. “Now let’s finish our coffee and then take some commemorative pictures by the Reuss.”

* * *

It was nearly midnight. Victor had been lying on his bed for the last hour or more, still in his clothes, shifting aimlessly now and then from his back to his side. He held his phone up to his face, and every few minutes flipped between the pictures of Yuuri. The first one from the train, the second of him gazing out the window, and then the third picture Chris had sent him that evening. This one of Yuuri leaning against the railing of the walk along the Reuss, the Spreuer Bridge in the background. Victor had a picture of himself in almost that exact place. He knew immediately that Chris had done it on purpose.

In the picture Yuuri was smiling, but it was a hesitant smile. The smile of someone who didn’t particularly like having their picture taken. He was wearing a light jacket, zipped all the way up. It had prompted Victor to check the current temperature in Lucerne. Wanting to know if he had been cold. Wanting to know anything that was real about him.

His name was Yuuri Katsuki. On September 16th he’d ridden a train into Lucerne. On September 17th he’d been chilled, but not cold standing next to the Reuss River. And for the past decade he’d loved _Stay Close to Me._

And this was how Victor had spent the last hour. Flipping from picture to picture, his mind slowly gathering threads, pulling them together, weaving them into a tapestry, a story only he knew.

His room was dark save for the glow of his bedside lamp. It felt warm, almost cocoon-like, lying there, just him and Yuuri and the wheels turning in his head.

So when his phone chimed and Chris’ text popped up on the screen it was like being pulled out of a dream.

C: _Still working?_

It took Victor a moment to respond.

V: _No. Coalescing._

C: _Meaning...? What exactly?_

Victor sat up and stretched, yawning as he adjusted his pillows so that he could prop himself up. Settling back against the pillows and the headboard, he worried the inside of his lip as he typed.

V: _I did some work earlier. Actual work._ _  
_ _I started a new novel last night._

C: _I see._ _  
_ _Is that really a good idea?_

Victor pushed his hair back from his face and grimaced a little. Chris’ question was fair. He’d been working on his _other_ novel for more than a year. He’d started and re-started and scrapped it so many times he’d lost count.

V: _I wasn’t getting anywhere with the other one._ _  
_ _I’d come to hate it._

C: _So what changed? :3_

A sigh escaped Victor’s lips as he pursed them. Chris knew very well what had changed.

V: _I can’t stop thinking about him._ _  
_ _Why did you send me those pictures?_

C: _Need I remind you that you ASKED me for the latest picture?_

V: _I know, but that was only after you sent the other ones yesterday._

C: _IDK. At first I was just amused._ __  
_Then I thought maybe it might actually cheer you up._ __  
_Or inspire you, or something._ __  
_Guess I was right. ;)_ __  
_He’s really quite lovely._ __  
_We had a nice long chat over coffee at that place you like_ _  
_ _He’ll be in Lucerne at least a week... ;)_

Victor groaned and grabbed a pillow to press over his face. He wanted to scream. He did scream a little bit. The mortifying thing was that he was _tempted_ . He’d been thinking about Yuuri for the past thirty hours. He’d hardly slept the night before. He’d let himself be inspired by him. He’d started a book about him, growing close to him in a way that he _knew_ was utterly fictitious and yet felt so, so completely real. And he wanted so badly to actually see him. To call him by his name. To beg him to be his muse.

The absolute absurdity of the situation was just the kind of thing that Chris loved. And the aching sense of existential connection he was feeling with a complete stranger was just the kind of thing Victor was known for writing about. It was like being trapped in one of his own stories.

V: _This is all your fault. What am I supposed to do now?_

C: _I’ve invited to you to Lucerne twice ffs_

V: _So I can just show up and present myself to him?_ __  
_Here I am! Your idol._  
_BTW don’t ask about these pictures of you in my phone_

C: _Oh NOW you feel weird about it_

V: _I’ve always felt weird about it!_

C: _You’re still staring at him, though, aren’t you?_

Victor didn’t respond right away. He let his hand and the phone fall to the bed while he pressed the pillow back over his face. Chris knew him far too well. After a minute or two his phone chimed again.

C: _Look. I have his phone number, hostel address, email address, and am inviting him to dinner on Wednesday._ __  
_We’re practically best friends already._ __  
_If you want to meet him I can make that happen_ _  
_ _Would probably be good for you to get out of your brain and do something for yourself in your real life_

Victor sat up. Who was Chris to lecture him about his “real life?”

 _A successful, well adjusted, respected man in his field who has a stable relationship with a caring and supportive boyfriend.That’s who._ He could just hear Chris sassing him in his head.

Victor began to chew at the inside of his lip and then opened his phone contacts and pressed Chris’ number.

“Oh, well hello. I see that got your attention,” Chris answered, his voice that familiar sensual drawl.

“Why are you torturing me?”

“Torturing you? That’s quite an accusation. I’m trying to be a good friend. You’re obviously interested in him. When was the last time you were interested in anything that wasn’t your writing?” Chris said.

Victor sighed and flopped back against the pillows. “But that’s the problem. He’s _becoming_ part of my writing. You know how I am.”

“Mmmm... obsessive?” Chris chuckled and then sighed. “Look if I’d known it was going to throw you into a gloom spiral I wouldn’t have sent you the pictures in the first place.”

“I’m not in a ‘gloom spiral’, whatever that is. I just... I _want_ him, and it’s all your fault. I don’t even know him, but now I’m writing a novel about him,” Victor replied, a faint whine in his voice.

“That’s good, isn’t it? You keep saying you can’t find any inspiration. So I found you some. You should be thanking me.” Silence hung between them on the line and then finally Chris continued. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. Do you want more pictures? I can give you his phone number. Or you could just come to Switzerland and stop being a baby.”

“I’m not being a baby. I’m trying to maintain some grasp on reality. Unlike you, who’s life is so boring you have decided to vicariously pursue someone else’s fantasy,” Victor grumbled.

“Oh, don’t be so full of yourself. I’m not getting to know him _just_ for you. He’s actually very interesting, and charming in a sweet and slightly awkward kind of way. He’s been working towards his MFA. He studied literature.”

“Then I’m sure you have a lot to talk about. Did you tell him you’re a literary critic?” Victor asked, smirking as he draped an arm over his eyes.

“No, I didn’t have to. He recognized my name from my blog. He reads my blog. He said I was _famous._ ”

Victor snickered. “There’s no such thing as a famous literary critic.”

Chris chuckled and then sighed softly. “He wants to be a novelist.”

“He wants to be a novelist, hm?” Victor smirked softly. Everyone wanted to be a novelist.

“All the more reason for you to come to Lucerne. He’s been struggling with his manuscript. I’m sure you could teach him all kinds of things.”

“So... what? I come to Lucerne, meet this Yuuri, and... offer to be his mentor?” Victor laughed. “Is that what you have in mind?”

“Why not? You said you want him. So come whisk him away with you to St. Petersburg where you can properly _instruct_ him.”

Victor couldn’t see Chris waggle his eyebrows, but he could practically hear it through the phone. He snorted, sitting up again and tossing his legs over the edge of his bed. “What kind of idiot just shows up and announces to someone they don’t even know that they’ve come to be their mentor?”

“An obsessive one,” Chris answered lightly. He paused for a moment and then added, “I have a copy of his manuscript. I’m going to read it for him. I could forward it to you.”   

The thought of reading Yuuri’s writing was strangely exciting. If he wanted to know more about him there was hardly a better way. Victor sighed, dropping his head into his hand and massaging his forehead. “No. I... I need to get my head straight. I need to get more of this story out before I get distracted. But...” he chewed the inside of his lip and felt an unusual nervous heat creeping into his face, “you could... send me more pictures.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“I know,” Victor groaned.

Chris tsked. “I’m going to leave you with your hopelessness. Johannes is waiting for me in bed. Go take a shower and actually get some sleep. You sound like you haven’t been sleeping or bathing.”

Victor couldn’t help the smirk on his lips. “You know me too well.”

“Well, a decade of friendship will do that. Sleep well, _mon cher.”_

 _“_ _Spokoynoy.”_

He hung up the phone with a sigh and reached to put it down on the night stand. But his hand paused, suspended in the air for a moment before he drew it back and opened the photographs to look at Yuuri’s picture again. His thumb brushed over his face.

“Yuuri,” he murmured softly, his expression becoming conflicted. “What would you do if I suddenly appeared before you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. A River Runs Through It - The title of this chapter is from "A River Runs Through it and Other Stories" by Normal Maclean, first published in 1976. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. ;) 
> 
> Follow me for updates, info and sass!  
>  **martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com**  
>  **twitter.com/martymuses**


	3. Through The Looking Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Welcome to chapter 3 of Stranger Than Fiction. I wrote most of this chapter during Hurricane Harvey, while I was barricaded in my best friend's apartment for six days. It was a long, weird, crazy time, and I'm so thankful that I made it through the storm with no personal damage or injury. I want to thank everyone who sent me messages and checked in with me via tumblr and twitter. I'm doing fine now, and back a work raising funds for disaster relief and providing relief assistance at the charity organization I work for. 
> 
> Thank you everyone who has taken an interest in this story! I'm having so much fun writing it. I'm trying to keep the chapters shorter than Love in Exile (if you haven't read my other chaptered fic it is completed and you can find it in my "Works"), so that I can hopefully provide updates more than once a month. ^^; So far so good. 
> 
> As always I'm posting additional information, reference materials, and updates related to this story on my blog [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com.](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com)
> 
> You can also follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/martymuses) for shenanigans and sass.

**_180 Words for Snow_ **

**_Chapter 1_ **

_It was snowing. But that wasn’t surprising. It was winter in Moscow. Of course it was snowing._

_Saying goodbye to my friends and family made my bag heavy, and the wind on the platform was cold. My joints ached. Like an old man’s._

_Trying to find my car, I saw him for the first time. He was like a statue, unmoving on the platform. The wind pushed his dark hair to one side, but snowflakes still clung to it. His hands in his pockets, his scarf pulled up around his mouth, he gazed at the train - through the train._

_I stared until he looked back at me. Our eyes met, startling us both._

_Before one of us could say something, before the moment of mutual observation could be acknowledged I turned away and went into the nearest car._

_Disquieted I went up and down the cars, looking for my berth. I had to double back, twice. And when I finally found it and opened the door, he was there._

_For a moment I stood in the doorway and he sat looking at me. He had undone his scarf. His lips were pink._

_“Oh. It’s you,” he said quietly, and then I stepped inside. “I saw you on the platform.”_

_“Yes.” I let my bag fall onto the seat opposite him._

_“Our eyes met.”_

_I sat down, a rush of air leaving my lungs. “Yes.” I pushed the blond hair from my eyes. To see him better? I undid my coat. He did the same. When I looked up his hand was held out to me._

_“I’m Yukito.”_

_I slid my hand into his. His fingers were like ice. “You can call me Alexander.”_

_I didn’t know it then, but I was already in love with him._

* * *

Victor sighed and sat back, pushing his fingers through his hair, not unlike his newest protagonist, Alexander. He never wrote more than a few chapters before going back, re-reading and doing his first round of edits. Many books or articles or advice blogs on writing told writers never to do this. They would all say “just get it out! write that first draft! edit later!”

But as far as Victor was concerned, trying to give someone else advice on how to write was completely pointless. There was no correct way to do it. There was only the way that worked for you.

So it irritated him even more that he couldn’t stop thinking about Chris’ words. His suggestion that he could be some kind of mentor to Yuuri. What could he possibly teach him? If he was a writer then everything he needed to know about his writing was already inside of him. He couldn’t teach him how to write like Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri could only write like Yuuri.

Victor wondered for the thousandth time since his conversation with Chris two days ago what Yuuri’s writing was like. What was he writing about in the manuscript he’d given Chris? What kind of story did Yuuri have inside of him?

Chris had gone annoyingly silent after their phone call. He knew that his friend was baiting him, going quiet only to force Victor to be the one to reach out for more information.

He didn’t _want_ to give in, but at the same time...

It was Wednesday. They’d be having dinner together tonight.

Victor stood up from his desk, collecting his used tea mugs and taking them to the kitchen. His phone hung in the pocket of his lounge pants, and once the mugs were in the sink he finally gave in and pulled it out. He looked at the pictures of Yuuri and then cursed himself as he opened his text conversation with Chris.

V: _So? How is his writing?_

Victor shifted his weight from foot to foot, leaning against his counter as he waited for a reply. A minute passed and still nothing. With a grumble he went to the electric kettle to make himself another mug of tea.

**DING**

He was almost embarrassed by how quickly he grabbed for his phone.

C: _It’s not what I expected._

V: _That’s unhelpfully vague. Thank you, Chris._

C: _Haha sorry!_ __  
_It’s... powerful._ __  
_He’s kind of an awkward, meek guy, so I guess I was expecting something lighter_ __  
_Some awkward college boy finding himself romance or something_ _  
_ _Well, actually there is a college boy finding himself and some romance, but it’s not what you’d think_

V: _But it’s good?_

C: _Oh, yes._ __  
_It’s not always polished and I think some of it has been overworked_ __  
_He did say he’d been working on it for years, so that’s not surprising_ __  
_But it’s good._ __  
_And painful and depressing and beautiful_ __  
_You’d love it! Hahaha!_  
_It’s unfinished though. Literally ends mid scene._

Victor bit his lower lip. The electric kettle beeped. He took a deep breath and put the phone down for a moment while he made his mug of tea and ruminated over Chris’ words.

When he picked the phone back up he tapped Chris’ contact number.

“You know, this whole Yuuri thing has prompted you to call me more times in three days than you’ve done in the past half a year. I’m starting to feel a little used,” Chris said, his voice petulant.

“What’s it about?” Victor asked, walking to his couch and tucking his feet beneath his old, sleeping poodle. Makkachin lifted her head just barely before closing her eyes again.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking. Joannes is also well and sends his love.”

Victor groaned and tipped his head back against the couch. “Chris. Just tell me what his book is about.”

Chris’ sigh crackled over the phone. “It’s about a young man whose mother falls in love with an American soldier during the occupation in the aftermath of World War II. They get married and they have a son, the protagonist. But when the father’s deployment ends and he goes back the United States they never hear from him again. Turns out he’s had another family in the US the whole time. But the protagonist doesn’t know this until he’s a young man.”

Victor’s lips quirked to one side. “Sounds a bit _Madame Butterfly_ , to me. Let me guess. He goes to find the father in the US?”  

“Mmhm. Some of the elements are a bit predictable, but not in a bad way necessarily. And the plot doesn’t go where you think it’s going to go. It handles some very deep and troubling themes quite refreshingly, and captures the sense of displacement of reconstruction era Japan. And also America in the midst of the civil rights movement.”

Victor chuckled. “You sound like you’re writing a critique right now.”  

Chris huffed. “If you don’t like my explanation why don’t I just send it to you and you can read it yourself?”

Chris’ words gave Victor pause. It was very tempting. He’d wondered so much about Yuuri’s writing. To find out that it was good gave him a tingling sense of excitement. He chewed the inside of his lips for a moment and then sighed. “No. I’m working on my own novel. I don’t have time to read an entire manuscript.”

“I’m going to send it to you anyway,” Chris drawled. “He gave me a direct link to the cloud document. You can read it at your leisure.” Victor’s phone made a soft popping sound in his ear, telling him he’d received a text. “There. I sent you the link.”

Immediately Victor felt the itch to look at it.

“You are the worst distraction,” Victor grumbled.

“What? The world has been waiting almost two years for your next novel. I think that at this point no one is going to notice the extra few days it will take you to read his manuscript.”

Victor let his head fall back again. “What if it changes my perspective on him and influences my writing?”

“Then you’re really terrible at your job.”

Victor draped his arm over his eyes and made a whining sound. There was silence on the line for a few moments.

“Ok, then. I’m going to go, _mon ami_. I have to get dinner started and pick up Yuuri soon. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“I hate you,” Victor grumbled and then waited for Chris to hang up before taking a deep breath and opening his unread text.

* * *

 

“How was dinner?”

“It was great!” Yuuri said, wondering if he was maybe being too enthusiastic. He’d been nervous about having dinner with Chris at his house. Not just for the obvious reasons, but also because he was afraid what Chris was going to say about his book. But dinner conversation had been light and so far he hadn’t brought it up.

Yuuri’s eyes shifted to Chris’ boyfriend as he got up from the table and started to reach for their empty plates.

“Oh, um, can I help at all? I feel kind of awful having you go through all this trouble and then cleaning up and everything.”

Chris stood as well, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t be silly. You’re our guest. Johannes loves to cook. Besides I’m just going to put some of these dishes in the sink and then you and I can talk in my office.”

Yuuri blinked. “Talk... in your office?”

Chris picked up the salad bowl and turned around to carry it into the kitchen. “About your manuscript. I finished reading it this morning.”

It felt like the blood was draining out of his body. He could literally feel himself going pale. “O-oh. Heh. Wow. That was fast.”

Chris looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Well, I basically read books for a living, so I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

“Oh yeah. I guess that makes sense.” Yuuri’s heart was pounding like crazy. He could feel it behind his eyeballs.

“I made some notes, so we can discuss my thoughts if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, uh... yeah. I mean, yes, of course, that would be awesome. Thank you so much. I really... I mean, you really didn’t need to do all that.”

Chris chuckled as he pulled the fridge open. “There wouldn’t have been much point in my reading it if I wasn’t going to give you feedback.”

“Yeah, true.” Yuuri swallowed and then stood up. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Hm?” Chris turned around. “Oh, of course. It’s just down the hallways to the left. In fact it’s right next to my office, so if you want you can just wait for me in there. I’ll just be a few minutes.” He winked and leaned forward on the counter, saying in a stage whisper, “I’ll leave all the real clean up to Johannes.”  

“ _D_ _anke mein Schatz,”_ Joahnnes said with a smirk over his shoulder. 

_“De rien, mon cher.”_

Yuuri smiled at the couple before heading to the bathroom, thinking how nice it must be to have what they had. He’d learned a bit about them over dinner. Johannes was an editor and agent. They’d met at a conference a number of years ago and started dating long distance. Eventually Chris had moved from Geneva to Lucerne. They both worked from home and they supported each other in their careers. Their relationship and their life together in the beautiful Swiss city seemed idyllic.

It honestly made him feel pretty lonely.

He’d never had what he would consider a “serious” relationship, let alone with someone who could understand and connect with him on the level Chris and Johannes probably could. He’d dated a few people in college, but the pressure of being in a relationship always ended up being too much for him to handle on top of his school work and writing. Either that or the other person got tired of tiptoeing around his neuroses.

He sighed softly, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror as he washed his hands. Phichit said he was cute, but Yuuri couldn’t see it. He looked pretty plain all things considered. Dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin, round cheeks. He looked normally, typically Japanese. It wasn’t that he thought he was unattractive. It was just that he was unremarkable. His glasses probably didn’t help matters.

Pushing such thoughts from his mind Yuuri left the bathroom, walking to the next room. It was Chris’ office. His socks slid against the hardwood floor as he opened the French doors fully and stepped inside, muttering a soft, habitual, “ _Shitsure shimasu,”_ under his breath.

The entire room was lined with built-in bookshelves, floor to ceiling. All of which were filled, even overflowing. In the middle of the room was a desk. Not an overbearing desk, but a nice desk with a computer rig with dual monitors and a row of file drawers.  
  
It felt a little intrusive to be in there by himself, but Chris had said it was alright, so Yuuri turned on the light and walked over to the nearest bookshelf. He noticed right away that the books were organized alphabetically by author. He made his way along the shelves until he reached the middle of the alphabet and there found what he knew he would find: all of Victor Nikiforov’s books. Hardbacks. First editions. Even _Stay Close to Me_ was a first edition, and it was very hard to find a copy from the first, small print run.

His fingers twitched, immediately, instinctively wanting to touch it. Yuuri glanced over his shoulder towards the open French doors leading into the hallway. He could hear Chris and Johannes talking softly in the kitchen. Why did he feel so guilty as he placed his index finger on the top of the spine and gently levered the book off the shelf?

The slip jacket was cool in his hands, and beautifully matte. Not any of that cheap, flashy, shiny shit. He turned it over in his hands slowly, letting his fingers linger on the slightly raised lettering of the title. He took a breath as he opened the cover, and then the breath left in a soft whoosh.

On the inside page in bold, black handwriting was this message: **_Chris_ ** **-** **_I found this in my attic. I thought you’d like it for your collection. Thank you for being my friend. I know it isn’t always easy. Спасибо. Виктор._ **

A big heart had been scrawled around the two words written in the cyrillic alphabet. Yuuri immediately recognized one as the name “Victor.” His head swam a little. Here in his hands was not only a first edition original printing of his favorite book in the whole world, but it had been personally signed by Victor Nikiforov. And not only signed by him, but addressed to his personal friend - Chris.

Christophe Giacometti, the man he’d just casually had dinner with was a personal friend of Victor Nikiforov. Just like Phichit had predicted.

“How did I know you were going to be looking at that?” Chris’ voice, laced with a soft chuckle, broke Yuuri from his daze.

The book cover snapped shut as he turned to stare at Chris now standing just inside the door. There was mischievous smile on his lips.

“You... you’re _friends_ with him. With Victor Nikiforov,” he said, astonished.

“Guilty as charged,” Chris said with a sigh and a shrug, coming further into the room. “I promise I wasn’t trying to keep it some kind of secret or anything. I hope it doesn’t seem that way.”

It did kind of seem that way. They’d talked about Victor on several occasions and Chris had never let on that they had a personal connection. That they had some kind of professional connection Yuuri could figure out for himself, but they were _friends._ His mind turned back to their very first conversation.

“Oh my God,” he said softly, sliding the book back onto the shelf as an excuse to look away from Chris so he might not see how incredibly red he was turning. “I said all of that embarrassing stuff about him on the train... You must have thought I was such an idiot. I don’t actually know anything about him and I said all that stuff.”

Chris smiled softly, walking over to Yuuri. “No, no. It wasn’t embarrassing at all. I was really touched, actually. You were so sincere in your admiration. And you weren’t wrong about how hard he works and how he should be allowed to take a break. It was just the kind of thing Victor needed to hear.”

Yuuri swallowed, feeling relieved that Chris wasn’t going to laugh at him. “Oh, well... I’m glad you don’t think I was making a fool-” He paused mid-sentence and his eyes widened a little. “Wait... did you say... ‘Victor needed to hear?’”

An impish and even slightly chagrined smile played on Chris’ lips and he averted his eyes up towards the ceiling. “Weelll... I might have told him about meeting you and what you had to say about being his fan. I think it really encouraged him, he’s been going through a rough time lately.”

For a few long moments Yuuri just stared at Chris, his expression a mixture of disbelief and horror. Finally he gasped. “You... you told him... about what I said? You told Victor Nikiforov about _me?_ ” Yuuri didn’t know if the thought was delightful or terrifying.

Chris shifted his weight. “I wanted to cheer him up, and I think it worked. He’s been very productive the past few days.” He grinned a little more, winking. “I was especially sure to convey your sentiments about his ‘rough and raw’ nature.”

“You what?!” The words exploded out of him. Yuuri’s head was spinning and his face felt hotter than he could remember it ever feeling before. His heart was beating crazily in his chest at just the idea of Chris relaying half of what he’d said on the train to _the_ actual Victor Nikiforov. “Chris... that’s so... I’m so embarrassed...”

Chris frowned and put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. His outburst surprised him, as did the look on his face, almost as if he was about to pass out. “Yuuri, it’s alright. I promise. Victor was very happy to hear about someone who believed in him and loved his writing so much. Lately all he’s been getting is pressure to produce a new novel, and it’s put him in a pretty bad place. Please don’t be upset. It made him really happy.” Chris studied Yuuri’s face, which didn’t seem to be improving. “I can call him if you don’t believe me.”

“No! No, do not call Victor Nikiforov! I think... I think I would die,” he moaned and covered his face with his hands.

Chris furrowed his brows. He really hadn’t expected Yuuri to react in this way. Wouldn’t anyone be excited to have the opportunity to make a personal connection with someone they admired? He pursed his lips and squeezed Yuuri’s shoulders again.

“Alright, I won’t call him. But, please don’t be upset. I promise. Hearing about you made him really happy. That should make you feel great!”

Yuuri took a deep, calming breath. It should, shouldn’t it? The fact that he’d made any kind of impact on his literary idol was amazing. It was something to be proud of. Not very many people could say something like that. If what he said made things even a little bit easier for Victor, then he should be happy.

Nodding, Yuuri looked back at Chris. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry I freaked out. I just... was not expecting that.” He laughed hollowly. “It’s just so... I mean... it’s crazy that I met you so randomly and suddenly I have this connection to someone that’s meant so much to me.”

Chris chuckled. “I think that’s what they call fate.” He squeezed Yuuri’s shoulders again. “Anyway, shall we talk about your book?”

The feeling of unease came back and he felt all of his blood draining into the floor again. “Oh. Right. Yeah, let’s... uh... let’s talk about it.”

“Pull that extra chair in the corner up to my desk and I’ll get my notes out.”

Yuuri swallowed and nodded, his head still reeling from the revelations and now even more so with the prospect that his work was about to be critiqued by a professional critic. He felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin or maybe go sit in the bathroom and have a good cry first. Instead he pulled the chair up to the desk and sat down stiffly.

Chris turned to him, swiveling in his desk chair. He had a notepad in his lap. “First of all, I want to say this: I was very impressed by your writing.”

Yuuri blinked, swallowing as Chris’ words brought a wave of relief. “Oh. Thank you. I’m glad. I was so worried you were just going to think it was all crap.”

Chris chuckled. “Not at all. I’ll be honest. I wasn’t expecting much. A lot of people - especially young men - say they want to be a writer or they are writing a book or whatever. Probably ninety percent of those people have no talent, and probably ninety-eight percent never actually accomplish anything whether they have talent or not.” He looked at Yuuri seriously. “But I don’t think you’re one of those people. You have real talent, Yuuri, and the story you told was not at all what I expected. It was beautiful and painful and very nuanced and a little fucked up - actually it was quite a lot fucked up, which I personally found delightful - and I _really_ want to know what happens at the end.”

Yuuri goggled at Chris. His words washed over him and into him, filling him with a bright, unexpected and unusual feeling. After a moment he realized that it was happiness. He was so, so unbelievably happy that Chris _liked_ his story. Not only his story, but that he thought he had talent. That he liked his _writing._ It had been so long since he had truly believed it when someone had told him he could write. But he knew that C. Giacommetti, literary critic and creator of _“Why Your Book is Shit”_ would not lie to him about this.

“Really?” the word came out as a squeaky croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean... you really think so? That it’s good?”

Chris nodded, his expression becoming more serious. “I think it’s very good. But it’s also not ready for publication, and not only because you haven’t figured out how it ends yet. For one thing it’s very obvious you wrote the story over a long period of time. Your tone and the subtleties of your writing style are inconsistent, and some areas you’ve overworked because you’ve just been through them too many times, editing and editing.”

Yuuri swallowed and nodded, pursing his lips a little. He knew that everything Chris was saying was true. And he was ready and hungry for it.

Chris set the notebook on his desk and put his hand over it. “I have a lot of notes. Critique can be difficult to take. But I really want to see you finish this book, and I really want to see it published. I want to help you get there Yuuri, and I can. So are you really ready to take this step?”

Yuuri’s eyes drifted to the notebook. He could see the lines of notes scrawled in red ink across the first page. How many pages of notes had Chris written? It was a little daunting to think about. Was he ready to have his work torn apart and drug into the searing daylight of the critical eye? Was he ready to take that step, to finally overcome the hurdle that kept him from moving forward for so long?

If he wasn’t, then what the hell had this whole trip been for?

He looked at Chris, his face serious, a look of determination in his eyes. “Yes. I’m ready. Please help me.” Without thinking he bowed his head. _“Yoroshiku onegai shimasu.”_

Chris blinked and then laughed. “Then let’s get started.”

* * *

 

Six hours later Chris was dropping Yuuri off at the hostel. They both looked and felt exhausted and it was well past one in the morning.

After saying goodbye he crept as quietly as he could into the four bunk room he shared with one other guest. He got ready for bed quickly and then lay in his bunk, wide awake and filled with the buzzing excitement of inspiration. He hadn’t felt so motivated to work on his novel in years.

He felt full to bursting and he knew he had to share some of this feeling with someone or else he might explode. Sitting up in bed he pulled his phone out from under his pillow.

Y: _Hey. You around?_ _  
_ _I really need to talk to you._

To his relief the response came almost immediately.

P: _Yeah. What’s up! :o_

Y: _Chris read my novel._

P: _What?? You really gave it to him?! 8O_

Y: _It’s... a long story, but yeah. He asked to read it._

P; _Wow! What did he say???_

Yuuri felt himself smiling as his stomach fluttered in excited, nervous knots.

Y: _He loved it._ __  
_I mean, not ALL of it, he had tons of critique_ _  
_ _But he loved it. He wants to help me get it published._

P: _OMG!! I KNEW IT!!_  
_THAT’S SO AMAZING! I’M FREAKING OUT FOR YOU RIGHT NOW!!_

Yuuri suppressed a giggle at Phichit’s expectedly over the top reaction. He could just imagine his friend’s face, eyes wide with excitement as he could barely contain himself. Phichit was one of those people who had no qualms about expressing themselves. He was absolutely always completely honest about his feelings.

Y: _I know. I’m like... in a daze._ __  
_It’s like a dream or something._ _  
_ _This stuff doesn’t happen to me._

P: _So what are you going to do then?_ _  
_ _Are you coming back? Staying there?_

Y: _I guess for now I’m staying here._ __  
_Chris invited to me to stay with him so I could work on my manuscript._ __  
_He’s got a spare room._ __  
_At first I was reluctant to accept, because it just felt like too much_ __  
_But, you know what?_ __  
_I’m gonna do it_ __  
_I’ve got a chance to really make this happen_ _  
_ _I’m not gonna let it slip between my fingers_

His heart was racing just from typing the words. It was like he was typing out some fantasy.  

P: _OMG_ __  
_I am so jealous of you right now_ __  
_But I’m so happy, too. You deserve this._ _  
_ _You’re amazing._

Yuuri didn’t realize he was crying until a drop fell onto his screen. He sniffled and wiped at his cheeks. He took a deep breath, fighting to suppress his tears and stay quiet, not wanting to disturb his roommate.

Y: _Thanks, Phichit._ __  
_This is the first time in a long time I actually believe that a little_  
Oh, and btw you were right. He totally is friends with Victor Nikiforov

P: _I knew it!!_ _  
_ _I hope you get to meet him someday and slobber all over him!_

That made him laugh softly.

Y: _I hope that if I do ever meet him, I don’t slobber_ _  
_ _I think I would die_

P: _Haha you probably would_ __  
_Look, I gotta go and it must be suuuuper late for you so you need to go to bed!_ __  
_But I’m so happy for you right now!_ __  
_I know it took a lot of courage to share your manuscript with C.G._ _  
_ _So I’m also super proud_

Y: _Thanks._ _  
_ _I’ll ttyl_

The room went dark as Yuuri turned off the screen and slid his phone back under his pillow. He was emotionally overwhelmed, but for once it wasn’t in a bad way. For the first time in a long time his joy and excitement overrode his anxiety and self-doubt. He had two more days at the hostel and then he would be staying with Chris. He’d be able to focus completely on his novel.

If he hadn’t been so exhausted his excitement probably would have kept him up all night. But as it was, exhaustion won out almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

* * *

 

Victor had been reading Yuuri’s novel since the moment he’d hung up the phone with Chris. His friend was right. It wasn’t anything at all like what he’d expected, and yet it was also perfect.

The sweet, awkward softness he’d imagined was there, but so too was a dark grittiness and an aching sensuality he hadn’t expected. Not that he hadn’t imagined Yuuri could be sensual. Quite the opposite. His own version of the boy on the train was full of sensuality, but that had been _his_ version, his imagination, his own projected desires. To find it actually there in his writing was thrilling and, if he was honest with himself, arousing.

In the past eight hours he’d made it about two thirds of the way through what Chris had sent him, and things were starting to get weird. Beautifully, wonderfully weird.

Reaching the end of a chapter, Victor looked up from his iPad at the clock. It was past three a.m. He cursed softly as he reached for his phone, rubbing his tired eyes as he began to type a message.

V: _I didn’t get any writing done this evening._ _  
_ _I hate you_

C: _Why are you still awake and texting me at 2 a.m?_

V: _Why do you think?_ _  
_ _I’ve been reading this damn book you sent me_

C: _Do you love it?_

V: _Of course I love it._ _  
_ _You already said you knew I would._

C: _I did say that, didn’t I?_

V: _It needs work_

C: _It does._ _  
_ _You’re going to be so upset when you get to the end and there’s no end_

Victor groaned at the thought, and huffed.

V: _I’m only partway through._ __  
_They end together at least, don’t they?_ _  
_ _Riki and Ricky? Tell me they end up together_

C: _Why would I spoil it for you? ;)_ _  
_ _Keep reading_

V: _I’m tiiiired!_

C: _Then go to bed and keep reading tomorrow!_

V: You’re so mean.

He flopped onto his side and stretched out a foot to gently rub his toes against Makkachin’s back.

C: _All joking aside. I want to help Yuuri finish this book and I want to help him get it published_ __  
_We went through a full critique tonight after dinner_ __  
_He took it like a champ_ __  
_But he needs to actually WORK on it_ __  
_I’ve offered him my guest room_ __  
_I really think you should come help me with this_ __  
_I have a good critical eye and I’m a decent editor, but I’m no real writer_ __  
_You can help him in ways I can’t_ __  
_I know you. You want to be a part of this_ __  
_Besides, he’s your new muse, right?_  
_Won’t you be able to write even better if he’s right there? ;)_

For the first time Chris’ words struck something inside of him that was grounded in some kind of reality. Before, tempting as it had been, Chris’ words had just been a teasing joke. _Come be his mentor. I know you want him._

He had wanted him. He did want him, but he also knew the difference between fantasy and reality. The real Yuuri Chris kept telling him about was not the Yuuri in his fantasies, the boy who had become Yukito. Just like he was not actually Alexander, the man that Yukito was destined to fall in love with.

The truth was, he knew that there was danger in too much longing. Were he to go to Lucerne and meet Yuuri, and if Yuuri were to accept his help to finish and perfect his novel, what other expectations would secretly live beneath their surfaces? Would it be enough for either of them? And if it wasn’t...

**DING**

Victor jerked as the chime interrupted his thoughts.

C: _I can practically hear you over thinking this situation all the way from here_

V: _It could get complicated_

C: _So what?!_ __  
_Life is complicated, Victor!_ __  
_But you still have to live it_ __  
_You can’t just live for your stories_ __  
_Live for yourself_ _  
_ _Come to Lucerne_

There was a space of several minutes between Chris’ last text and Victor’s eventual reply.

V: _Fine. But I’m bringing Makkachin._

* * *

 

Two days later Yuuri checked out of the hostel and waited anxiously on the sidewalk outside for Chris. It was colder that afternoon than the previous days, and Yuuri turned the collar of his jacket up against the breeze.

He was still feeling that mix of nervousness, disbelief, and excitement that had clung to the pit of his stomach since Wednesday. He couldn’t believe he was going to be staying with C. Giacometti. Or that he _wanted_ to help him get his book published.

The past two days he’d continued his sight seeing, but everything had been overshadowed by the coming arrival of this moment.

A black Volvo pulled up along the curb and he immediately recognized Chris as he rolled down the window and waved. “Yuuri! Come throw your things in the back!”

“Thanks for picking me up, Chris,” he said as he slid into the passenger’s seat. “And, um, thank you again. For all of this. For opening your home to me, and your help and everything.”

Chris chuckled. “What are you talking about? You don’t have to thank me. I’m really excited about all of this. My job gets kind of boring. It’s like a new adventure. Did you get a printed copy of your manuscript?”  
  
“Ah. Yes. I went to a print shop yesterday. It’s weird. I’ve never seen it printed out before. It makes it seem so much more... book like.” He chuckled. “I usually just edit on my computer.”

“Which is fine, but I think there’s something to be said for having something you can actually touch and feel and scrawl all over. Not that I’m some kind of expert. I’ve never written a book.”

Yuuri smiled at Chris. “Neither have I.”

The drive to Chris’ house was only about ten minutes, and the scenery was both idyllic and calming. Yuuri had grown up in a small town, and there was something about Lucerne that was reminiscent of Hasetsu. Maybe it was the mountains, or maybe it was the water, but whatever it was he felt oddly at home in this foreign town.

Chris parked in the driveway and offered to help Yuuri with his bags, but he refused. “I’ve got it. If you could just get the door for me that’d be great.”

“No. I’m going to watch you struggle up my walk and into my house with all of your bags for my own amusement.”

Yuuri blanched a little. “Uh...”

“Yuuri, I’m joking.”

“Oh! Right. Hah. Of course you’re joking.” He chuckled awkwardly and made his way up the walk, following Chris. He toed out of his shoes in the entryway as Chris closed the door behind them.

“The guest room is next to my office. You remember where that is, right?”

“Yeah, just down the hallway.”

Yuuri nodded and started dragging his roller bag after him as he headed out of the entryway and across the living room towards the hallway. Johannes was in the kitchen as Yuuri passed by. “Hi, Johannes. Um... thanks again, for agreeing to let me stay with you for a little while.”

Johannes looked up from the stove and glnaced at Yuuri. The expression on his face was that of a man who was beset on all side and had already accepted his fate. It made him worry a little that maybe Johannes really didn’t want him there. But then he just smiled. “You’re welcome, Yuuri. Make yourself at home.”

“Oh... ok. Thanks.” He gave a little wave and then continued down the hallway. To his surprise the light in the guest room appeared to be on. Well maybe that wasn’t so surprising. Chris probably turned it on to make it easy for him to find. The door was also partially open.

With a soft sigh and grunt he nudged it open the rest of the way with his foot, stepped into the room, and promptly froze in place.

A man, just under six feet tall, wearing a cream colored sweater, slim cut jeans, and holding a half empty glass of red wine was standing, staring at him from the other side of the further of the two twin beds that occupied the room. He was impossibly, ridiculously good looking with a long, straight nose, perfectly blue eyes, and the palest platinum blond hair Yuuri had ever seen. At least in real life.

For a moment Yuuri couldn’t make sense of the man standing in front of him. Chris hadn’t mentioned anything about another guest. This _was_ the guest room, wasn’t it? It was the room next to his office, right?

Slowly, stiffly Yuuri glanced over his shoulder back into the hallway as if to check that he was still in Chris’ house. When suddenly the other man cried out to him.

“Yuuri! You’re here! I’m so glad to finally meet you in person.”

The voice, softly lilting with a Russian accent, shocked him and his head whipped around. He stared at the man who was now advancing on him with eyes the size of saucers.

“Wha... wha... who... wha...” was all he could get out as he tracked the other man’s progress towards him.

“We’re going to be roommates! I hope you don’t mind. We’re going to have so much fun.”

The handsome man was now incredibly close to him and Yuuri instinctively leaned away a little, his eyes still wide with shock. The man frowned softly. “Yuuri? Why don’t you greet me? Don’t you recognize me?”

The fact was he _did_ recognize him. He absolutely, unbelievably, unmistakably recognized him. “You’re Victor Nikiforov,” he said in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

Victor perked, obviously pleased. “Perfect! Yes. Oh, I’m so glad you recognized me. Sometimes those author photos do me absolutely not justice.”

“But... but... How... why... why are you here?” was all he could think to say.

Victor frowned again. “Didn’t Chris tell you? I came to Lucerne to help you with your book! I’m going to be your mentor!”

“My mentor?” he said dazedly. “My... book? Wait...” A creeping feeling of horror slowly started up his spine. “You... know about my book? You... did you _read_ my book?”

Victor blinked and leaned back a little, canting his head to one side. He tapped a finger to his lips. “Of course. Chris sent it to me.” His gaze softened and yet also somehow intensified. Before Yuuri could move back, Victor was cupping his chin in his hand, leaning towards him again. “I loved it. I can’t wait to pull the rest of the story out of you.”

Yuuri opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Their faces were only about five inches apart. “E-excuse me,” he managed to gasp after a moment and took a step back.

Victor blinked and released Yuuri’s chin. “Hm?”

Yuuri turned and walked out of the room, leaving his bags where he dropped them in the doorway. He turned up the hallway, walked past Chris’s office, and turned into the bathroom. Quietly, he shut the door, looked at himself in the mirror, and then screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few notes: 
> 
> 1\. Madame Butterfly - Madame Butterfly is an Italian opera, which premiered in 1904. The plot is basically about a US Naval Officer who marries a young Japanese woman, with the intent of leaving her once he finds a more "suitable" white wife. He leaves her shortly after they are married and when he returns it is some years later with said white wife. In the interim the Japanese woman has given birth do a son. Drama ensues, and the Japanese woman ends up committing suicide. So there are some similarities to the initial set up of Yuuri's novel, hence Victor's comment. 
> 
> 2\. _"Danke mein Schatz." "De rien, mon cher."_ \- In this exchange Johannes says "Thank you, darling" in German, while Chris response "You're welcome, my dear" in French. Because they are from different parts of Switzerland they have different primary languages (though both speak German and French fluently), and often banter with each other in this manner. 
> 
> 3\. _Shitsurei shimasu._ \- This is a sort of standard, habitual thing one says in Japanese when entering another person's house or space (their room or office perhaps). It literally means "I"m being rude," but the meaning in context is really more like "sorry for the intrusion." You can also say _Ojyama shimasu._ , which similarly means something like "I'm being pest/bother." But it serves the same purpose/meaning. 
> 
> 4\. Спасибо. Виктор. - This reads _"Spasibo. Viktor"_ or "Thank you. Victor." 
> 
> 5\. Yoroshiku onegai shimasu - I feel like if you watch anime you probably don't need to have this translated. It's often translated as something like "I'm in your care" or "please take care of me."
> 
> 6\. Through the Looking Glass - This chapter's title come from Lewis Carroll's 1871 novel titled "Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There." It was the sequel to "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."
> 
>  
> 
> **Follow me on tumblr and twitter!**  
> [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com/)  
> [@martymuses](https://twitter.com/martymuses)


	4. A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! At long last chapter 4 is here! I'm sorry it took so long. Things have been very crazy and busy for me post Harvey due to my work. At least this chapter is a little bit longer. A reward for having to wait to long. ;) 
> 
> If you haven't checked out my fic writing/yoi blog on tumblr I recently posted a model of Chris' house on there that I created in the Sims. (Isn't this what everyone does with the Sims? lol) So if you are interested in having a visual for the layout you can check it out at the link below. <3 
> 
> As always I'm posting additional information, reference materials, and updates related to this story on my blog [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com.](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com)
> 
> You can also follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/martymuses) for shenanigans and sass.

* * *

 

If dinner was awkward Yuuri didn’t notice. His brain was too occupied with the shock of sitting next to his idol for him to notice much of anything. He went through the automatic processes of social niceties. He answered questions, he smiled when appropriate, he said yes or no when offered another helping or another glass of wine.

He also didn’t notice the way Victor watched him out of the corner of his eye, or the soft quality of his voice whenever he addressed him. Or the way he smelled like foreign soap.

It wasn’t until dinner was over and Victor had left the table to help clean up with Johannes that Yuuri was actually able to fully process exactly what he was feeling. And it was as he looked at Chris who was smiling at him in that mild, impish way, that Yuuri realized he was absolutely furious.

“How was dinner?” Chris asked, propping his chin in his hand.

Yuuri stood up abruptly, his chair making an unpleasant sound as it slid against the hardwood floor. Both Johannes and Victor glanced over from the kitchen, pausing briefly in their work.

“Can I talk to you?” Yuuri said pointedly to Chris.

Chris blinked owlishly and sat up. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Yuuri’s hands balled at his sides and he took a deep breath through his nose. “In your office.”

Chris chuckled and stood up. “Uh oh. Am I in trouble?”

As the French doors to Chris’ office quietly clicked closed, Yuuri stood for a moment, his back to Chris, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself before he turned around to face him. There was color in Yuuri’s cheeks, and his brows were drawn close together above his glasses. “What were you thinking bringing _Victor Nikiforov_ here without telling me? Without warning me? I made a complete ass of myself.”

Chris sighed and gave Yuuri a cool look. “I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you freaking out and doing something ridiculous like running away. The way you reacted to just seeing my signed copy of _Stay Close to Me_ told me you were going to blow meeting him way out of proportion.”

Yuuri couldn’t completely deny that Chris’ reasoning had some logic buried in it. If Chris had told him that he invited Victor Nikiforov to visit and help workshop his book, he certainly would have had a panic attack. But that didn’t excuse Chris’ behavior.

“You should have talked to me about it! You should have asked me if it was something I was ok with, something I’d even want!”

“Who doesn’t want to meet someone they idolize and admire? Someone famous like Victor?”

“Maybe I don’t!” Yuuri snapped, his voice and expression becoming a little desperate.

He didn’t know how to explain his feelings to Chris. Victor Nikiforov had always been a kind of abstract concept to him. The ideal image of a talented writer, an icon he could lift up above himself so that he had something to reach for. He needed that. He needed something to climb for, and Victor had always been that. But not _actually_ Victor Nikiforov, only what he stood for: talent, success, acclaim, ambition. Being like Victor was his goal, his dream, the reason he wanted to write.

But now the real Victor Nikiforov was right there, sitting next to him at dinner, sharing Chris’ guest room with him, drinking too much red wine, doing dishes. He was a real person - true he was still an amazing and impossibly beautiful person - but he was real. Not an idea, not a symbol, a real person. And if the reality of Victor Nikiforov couldn’t maintain the abstract idea that he stood for... where was that going to leave Yuuri? What was he supposed to strive for if his icon toppled?

Just thinking about it made Yuuri realize that trying to explain would make him sound like a crazy person. Chris was right. Any normal person would have been thrilled by this turn of events. They would have been happy and grateful. He considered how ungrateful he must appear to Chris in that moment. He’d been nothing but kind and helpful to him, even though he had absolutely no reason to do so.

Yuuri deflated a little as Chris continued to just stand there in silence, looking at him. “You gave him my book. You didn’t have any right to do that. I didn’t give you permission to share it with anyone else. I gave it to you so you could help me with it.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Chris said finally, getting a little exasperated, and it showed in the way his eyes narrowed. “Can’t you see that? Victor can help you so much more than I can.”

“Why would he want to help me?”

Chris threw up his arms now, giving into his exasperation. “Because he’s interested in you! Because you’re talented and he’s invested in the story you’ve written.”

Yuuri looked skeptical. “I just don’t understand why you would do this - any of this.”

Chris sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought it would make you happy,” he said finally. “I thought it would make you both happy. I don’t know why it’s so hard to believe that my intentions are altruistic.”

Yuuri smirked faintly. “If reading my story taught you anything about me, you should understand my views of altruistic intentions,” he said a little dryly.

“And yet here you are. Staying in my house and accepting my help and friendship. I don’t think you’re quite as jaded as all that,” Chris said in the same bland tone.

Yuuri shuffled his feet against the polished floorboards, feeling awkward. He didn’t really like confrontation, and he was already so far out of his comfort zone. It was kind of amazing he was holding it together as well as he was. He wrapped his arms around himself.

Chris sighed and shifted his weight, honestly feeling bad that he’d upset him so much. “Look, Yuuri, I’m sorry, alright. I apologize for inviting Victor here without telling you or discussing it with you, and for giving him your book without asking. I should have talked to you. I had no idea you’d be so upset and I thought I was... being helpful.”

Yuuri deflated further. “I... I know. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I must seem really ungrateful. And I’m not. I’m really not.”

Chris smiled softly. “Victor really is excited to help you. He’s nervous as well. It took some convincing to get him here, so... please don’t take your feelings about what I did out on him.”

It was weird to think about Victor Nikiforov being nervous about wanting to help _him_. In every interview or article or author’s note that he’d read, Victor always seemed confident if nothing else. Even his picture on the inside sleeve of his books looked confident, if not a little haughty.

Was he ready to know the real Victor Nikiforov? Whether he was or not, it didn’t seem like he was going to have a choice in the matter.

Yuuri swallowed and shook his head. “I won’t. That wasn’t my intention anyway.”

“Good! Shall we go back to the dining room then?”

Yuuri swallowed and shook his head. “Ah... no, that’s alright. I kind of feel like I need to cool my head a little. I’m gonna go put my things away and just be alone for a little while.”

“Suit yourself. But Johannes made dessert, so don’t stay holed up all night.”

They went opposite directions in the hallway, Yuuri heading to the guest room and Chris back towards the living room. Victor was there waiting for him, and as soon as he saw Yuuri wasn’t with him he pounced.

“Chris, what have you done? I’m never going to forgive you if Yuuri already hates me.”

Chris groaned and rolled his eyes, pushing past Victor towards the kitchen. “Oh, is it your turn to lecture me now?”

“You didn’t tell me he didn’t know I was coming! Or that he didn’t know you’d given me his book,” Victor hissed.

Chris looked back over his shoulder. “Oh? Were you eavesdropping?”

Victor balked a little. “No.” He pushed a hand through his hair, trying to look aloof and then sighed and groaned. “Maybe a little.”

Chris shook his head. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“He said he didn’t want to meet me, Chris,” Victor’s voice had become a soft whine. “Why would you bring me here when he doesn’t even want to meet me?”

“Because he’s an idiot and you’re also an idiot!” Chris said, throwing his hands up again. “You know very well why I brought you here, and he absolutely does want to meet you. He’s just nervous, because you’re his idol.”

Victor chewed his lip and looked back over his shoulder at the hallway. “Maybe I should go talk to him.”

“No. Go take your dog for a walk. He’s a bit of an introvert, so just let him... decompress or whatever.”

“Maybe I should get a hotel room...” Victor mused quietly, still worrying his lip.

“Vitya.” The calm, smooth voice belonged to Johannes, who was still in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner. “Go take a walk with your dog. You just got here. We can iron out the details of this Chris-generated fiasco later.”

Chris huffed and narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. “It’s not a fiasco. Everything is going to be fine.”

Victor looked visibly mollified by Johannes’ words, even if Chris wasn’t. “Alright, Johannes.” He called to Makkachin, who had been minding her own business, napping in the living room since they arrived that afternoon. She padded over a bit stiffly, followed Victor to the door, and then out into the crisp Swiss evening.

Chris sidled up behind Johannes. “You’re not really mad at me, too, are you?” He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and pressed himself against his back.

Johannes gave the sigh of the long suffering. “What is the point in being angry with you? You do whatever you please anyway.”

Chris chuckled. “Mmmm, that’s true.” He propped his chin on Johannes’ shoulder. “But I really do think this is going to be good for both of them. So just bear with me, hm?”

Johannes smirked softly and then turned his face to touch his nose to Chris’. “What choice do I have?”

After his argument with Chris, Yuuri’s anxiety was so bad that he ended up crying a little. He wanted to talk to someone so badly, but couldn’t bring himself to call or text Phichit. Even though they were close friends, he knew that the outgoing, bubbly, confident younger man wouldn’t really understand why he was upset.

He’d probably think Chris’ actions were entirely reasonable. Who didn’t love a surprise? He’d think he was overreacting and freaking out for no reason. He’d say it was so amazing that he got to meet Victor. He probably wouldn't be wrong.

And more than anything, Yuuri hated feeling weak, or having to depend on others. Phichit was his friend, not just some shoulder to go and cry on when he was having a bad day.

In the end he didn’t rejoin the others for dessert. He washed up as quickly and quietly as possible in the bathroom and then went to bed.

Sleep didn’t come easily. When he heard the door open and feet move with purposeful quietness across the floor he could only lie there, pretending to sleep. His heart sped up just knowing it was Victor.

Was it his imagination or did he feel his presence hovering at the edge of the bed? Turning to look would only give away the fact that he was awake.  

After a few moments the sounds of movement resumed. Socked feet on the floorboards. The rustle of cloth as clothing was removed. The creak of the bed only a few feet from his own. They were the kinds of sounds you grew used to hearing a lover make.

After what felt like an eternity of lying in bed, keenly aware of Victor’s presence, Yuuri finally drifted off into sleep. But it didn’t last very long. He was awake again in the early hours just before dawn, roused by a sudden and stirring need.

Yuuri knew better than to argue when inspiration struck him. Despite his lack of rest he crawled as quietly as he could out of his bed, nearly tripping over the large dog lying in the space between his bed and Victor’s. It lifted its head at his gasp of surprise and just looked at him patiently for a moment before laying its head back down. Its tail gave a couple soft thumps as Yuuri edged past it towards his bag.

Had Chris always had a dog? Or was this Victor’s dog? What kind of man just traveled around with a giant dog?

The house was eerily quiet so early in the morning. And it had a crisp coolness to it that made Yuuri shiver as he set his bag down on the couch. He tiptoed into the kitchen, quietly opening and closing cupboards as he looked for the coffee. He should have at least asked Chris for a tour of the kitchen before he’d thrown a fit and gone to bed last night.

“What are you looking for?” the voice was just above a whisper, but it still made Yuuri nearly jump out of his skin.

He spun around, almost tripping over his feet, to see Victor standing across the kitchen from him. He was wearing a pair of flannel lounge pants with snowflakes on them and nothing else. For a moment Yuuri couldn’t do anything but stare at his nipples and then his eyes flashed up to his face.

“Aren’t you cold?” the words left his stupid mouth before he could stop them.

Victor looked mildly puzzled and then shook his head. “No. I’m Russian.”

Yuuri swallowed, unsure if Victor was making a joke or not. “Oh. Uh... I was just going to make a cup of coffee. Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I was trying to be quiet.”

Victor pushed his fingers through his hair and walked over to one of the cabinets, pulling it open and taking down a bag of ground coffee. “No, you woke Makkachin up, and then she woke me up to let her out.”

“Oh. The dog? Her name is Makkachin? She’s your dog?”

“Mmhm,” Victor responded, taking the kettle off the stove and filling it with water before lighting the gas burner.

Yuuri watched Victor, feeling guilty that he was apparently going through the trouble of making coffee for him. “Ah... you don’t have to do that. I can figure it out from here.”

Victor smiled over his shoulder as he opened another cupboard to take down Chris’ French press. “Don’t worry about it. I know where everything is in Chris’ house. Go work on your manuscript. That’s what you got up for, isn’t it?”

For some reason the fact that Victor knew why he’d gotten up made him feel a mixture of embarrassment and relief. He colored a little. “Yeah. It is.”

Victor chuckled. “The muses are fickle. I know that all too well. You should get to it before they abandon you.”

“Ah... right.” He smiled tentatively. “Thank you. For making the coffee.”

“I’m up. I might as well do something.”

Yuuri went back to the couch, taking a deep breath as he sat down on the floor and opened his bag. He pulled out the manuscript first and then his laptop, then Chris’ ream of notes, his pad of sticky flags, and pens of several different colors. He spread everything out on the large coffee table. He’d already started flagging all the areas Chris’ notes referred to, wanting to be as organized in his revisions as possible. He found where he’d left off and went back to it, flipping through the pages of the story and making notes in the margins where he stuck the flags.

Condense. Clarify. Expand. Simplify. Dialogue needs work. Motivation? Too much exposition.

Yuuri became so engrossed in his task that he didn’t notice when Victor came to stand behind him. It wasn’t until the other man leaned down to set a cup of coffee next to him that he looked up, realizing he was there.

“Is that how you usually edit?” Victor asked, his voice sincerely curious.

“Uh... no. No, not really. Thanks for the coffee by the way.”

Victor smiled as he sat down on the loveseat across from Yuuri, holding a mug of tea. He was, Yuuri noticed, still shirtless. “Oh? Then why are you using that method now?”

Yuuri blinked at the question, looking from Victor to his pile of printed pages and flag tabs. “Um, well... Chris thought it might help if I had a physical copy to make notes on before I went back to the digital version. He gave me a lot of notes.” He held up the spiral notepad full of Chris’ red inked handwriting.

“And? Is it helping?” Victor asked mildly, sitting forward and reaching for the notepad. “May I?”

“Yeah, sure...” Yuuri let Victor take the notepad out of his fingers as his previous question buzzed around in his head. He looked back at the stack of papers and the notes. “To be honest, I’m not sure if it’s helping. But it’s been a long time since I tried anything different, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Mm,” Victor made a soft sound of indecipherable meaning as he sat back and began to flip through Chris’ notes, sipping his tea. Every few seconds he grunted or smirked or snorted or made a sound of grudging agreement.

Unsure what to do with Victor’s presence hanging over him, Yuuri just sat and watched him, quietly sipping his coffee.

“I hope you’re not planning to take all of his suggestions,” Victor said a little dryly after a few minutes.

“Eh?”

Victor handed the notepad back to Yuuri. “Don’t get me wrong. Chris has a good critical eye and most of his notes are good, but he lacks a true sense of artistry. Having a good editor is important, but you also shouldn’t let someone else dictate your style. Some of what Chris seems to find muddied or confusing I think is just his lack of understanding the way you are trying to incorporate the sense of blending Japanese and Western styles. You’re writing rides a fine line between context and confusion, between the subtle nuance of Japanese and the hard, descriptive prose of English. I think it’s actually really brilliant and truly makes Riki that much more sympathetic, because that’s his entire existence.”

For several long moments Yuuri just stared at Victor, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging slightly open. Going through the story with Chris had honestly been a little disheartening. He hadn’t seemed to understand what he was trying to accomplish with some of his stylistic choices. Yuuri immediately assumed that the failure had been on his part, that what he was trying to execute was just too difficult for him to do properly.

But Victor had described it so perfectly. He’d _gotten_ it. He’d understood exactly why the writing was the way it was. He hadn’t failed.

Yuuri’s heart was beating fast in his chest and his throat began to feel tight. Victor Nikiforov, his idol, this beautiful shirtless man, thought his writing was brilliant.

“Thank you,” he gasped finally. “Yes. That’s exactly what I was trying to convey.”

Victor smiled. “I know. It’s beautiful. You need to trust yourself, Yuuri. This is your story. Not everyone will understand it, but that’s alright. They don’t have to.”

Yuuri swallowed and nodded. “Thank you,” he repeated.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Victor chuckled. “I’m just telling you what you should already know.” He sat back, pulling one leg up onto the couch as he took a sip of his tea. “Now. The real question is why are you bothering to make all these huge edits when you haven’t even finished the story yet?”

Yuuri balked and made a croaking sound. He turned to look back at the pile of papers, his shoulders slumping. “I’d hoped that really going through it all again might clarify the ending for me. I guess.”

Victor’s brows rose. “You really don’t know how it ends?”

Yuuri sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I... I know how I _want_ it to end. I just don’t know if that’s the way it _should_ end.”

“Oh? Then how do you _want_ it to end?”

Yuuri looked back a Victor and he furrowed his brows thoughtfully, twisting his lips. “Let me ask you the same question first. As a reader of the story, how do _you_ want it to end?”

Victor chuckled. “Well... I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

Yuuri laughed. “Oh really? Not all of your stories end happily, though.”

Victor smirked a little. “Well, no. But not all stories are meant to end happily.”

“No. They’re not,” Yuuri said with a sigh. “I guess I just can’t decide if this is one of those stories or not.”

“If it was up to me Riki would stay with Ricki.”

Yuuri smirked and arched an eyebrow. “I thought you said you wanted a _happy_ ending.”

They stared at each other for a moment. “That’s not a happy ending?” Victor asked, honestly intrigued.

“You think they’d actually be happy?” Yuuri countered. “I’d call it... an ending of ambiguous subjective value at best. I mean, their relationship is completely toxic.”

Victor pouted. “No, it gets better towards the end. They should be together. It’s romantic. That’s always the happy ending.”

Yuuri furrowed his brows, sitting up straighter. “Two people staying together for the wrong reason isn’t romantic. Even if they say they’re in love. Besides, do you really think what Riki feels for Ricky is love?”

Victor twisted his lips. “It’s... complicated. But he knows that. If he explained everything to Ricky properly then they might both understand. Whatever else is motivating them... yes, I think there is love.” He gave a decisive nod of his head.

“Hmm...” Yuuri made a thoughtful sound. It was strange and interesting to hear someone else’s take on his characters and their perceived motivations. His fingers drummed the top of the manuscript. “I still say that’s not the happy ending.”

“Alright. Then what’s the happy ending?”

“Recovery,” Yuuri said simply. “They both heal and move on with their lives. The hope that real happiness is now possible.”

Victor sighed. “That’s such an unsatisfying happy ending. It’s not romantic at all. It’s much more ambiguous than if they just stay together.” He sipped his tea and then smirked. “So if we have the ambiguous and happy endings, then what is the really bad ending?”

“Murder suicide most likely,” Yuuri said with a wry grin.

“How noir!” Victor barked a laugh and then twisted his lips thoughtfully. “It’s too bleak. After everything else it’s just... the easy way out. For them and for you.”

Yuuri chuckled and nodded. “I know. That’s not the way I would go.” He was quiet for a moment, fingers rifling the edges of the manuscript. “I think maybe it’s just one of those things I can’t know until I write it.”

“Then why aren’t you writing it?”

“I think I’m a little afraid of what they’re going to do. It’s like... from here on out I can’t control the outcome anymore. I have to trust my own creation. It’s daunting.”

Victor’s lips curled in a slow smile as he gazed at Yuuri over his mug of tea. “It’s nothing to be afraid of. Giving yourself over to your creations is what it means to be a writer. That they have so much of their own life only means you have succeeded in telling their story. So let it live, Yuuri.”

Their eyes met for a long, pregnant moment. How was it that someone as amazing as Victor could understand him so well? How did he know exactly what he needed to hear?

He opened his mouth to say something, but Victor looked away suddenly at the sound of a scratch at the side door. “Looks like Makkachin is done being out.” He rose to let the dog in, and Yuuri watched her as she padded over and then lay down by the cold fireplace.

“I’m going to go do some of my own work. Good luck on your revisions, Yuuri.”

Yuuri looked over at Victor who was headed back towards the hallway. “Oh. Yeah. You too. I mean, good luck with your work.” Victor gave him a smile and Yuuri hesitated for a moment before saying, “And thank you. For the coffee and for talking with me. I really enjoyed it. Having a chance to talk to you. I really do admire you a lot.”

Victor paused and turned part way around. He was still smiling, but it had taken on a different quality. “That makes me really happy to hear. After last night-”

“Let’s not talk about last night,” Yuuri broke in, feeling his face heat up. “Let’s just... move forward from here.”

Victor grinned and laughed. “Ok. I’d like that.”

Yuuri smiled and waited for Victor to disappear down the hallway before returning to his work. He turned his idol’s words over in his head as he meticulously went through Chris’ notes, making tabs, and scrawling in the margins.

* * *

 

**_180 Words for Snow_ **

**_Chapter 4_ **

_The train lurched. Hard and unexpected._

_Luckily we were in the small space between cars as we made our way back from the dining lounge.  I was propelled only a few feet forward into the wall. Yukito came after me with a gasp._

_Without thinking I reached for him, grabbing him firmly to keep him from falling off his feet. Instead he fell against me._

_It was night and the space between the cars was dim. Only ambient light from the windows in the adjoining doors made it possible to see._

_I made to right him. To set him back on his feet properly, but his fingers clutched at my shirt. He pulled himself into me. He stole my breath. My fingers tightened on his arms._

_“Not yet,” he whispered. But I wasn’t sure what he meant._

_I looked down at his face, pale and round as the moon in the darkness. He seemed to glow. I was about to say something when the train lurched again. Harder this time. My back slammed into the wall and he pressed against me hard._

_A shudder seemed to go through the train and then a strange, faint groaning. The lights flickered and then went out in each car one by one. We were in true darkness._

_Yukito shivered like he was cold or, more likely, terrified. I wrapped my arms around him. He pressed his face to my neck. “Not yet,” he breathed again._

_We stood like that as I realized the train was slowing. Slowing. Slowing. And then it stopped. There was a rush of silence in the dark space we inhabited. It was broken by his voice._

_“Now.”_

_I looked down. He looked up. He on tiptoes, me bowing my head. His finger tightened as did my arms. I thought for a moment we would meet in the space between our lips._

_But then he was pulling away. His fingers relinquishing their grasp. My arms reluctantly released him. His hand found mine even as he moved away._

_“So we don’t get separated in the darkness,” he murmured._

* * *

 

A day passed and then two and then three. Yuuri and Victor both worked on their own writing, aware of one another and yet simultaneously oblivious. Like two objects slowly falling into a tightening orbit.

It was late morning and Yuuri was already lying on the floor next to the coffee table. His manuscript was spread over the entirety of its surface, red marks and scribbled notes in both English and Japanese marred the white pages like bloody battle scars. In three days he’d made it through the entire thing somehow.

And it still didn’t have an ending. By his estimation a full quarter of the book was still unwritten. The more he thought about Victor’s words, about how he had no option but let his creation create itself, the more excited and anxious he became. There was nothing left now but the ending.

“Yuuri!”

Victor appeared over the back of the loveseat so suddenly that Yuuri nearly banged his head on the coffee table as he sat up. The Russian writer had an almost manic look about him. His white blond hair was disheveled and the cream colored sweater he was wearing - which Yuuri thought was probably the same one he was wearing the night he arrived - had what was probably a tea stain on it.

“Huh? Did something happen?”

“I found a good stopping point,” Victor grinned. Yuuri noticed, not for the first time, the way his mouth vaguely made the shape of a heart when he smiled. It wasn’t something he could ever have known about Victor just from his work. “You’ve also been working hard. Let’s do something fun today.”

Yuuri blinked at him owlishly. “Uh... like what?”

“Let’s go to Mt. Pilatus! I haven’t been there in ages!”

“You’ll have to take the cogwheel train this time of year and it will probably be snowing,” Chris said, looking up from the paper he was reading at the kitchen counter.

“Perfect!” Victor looked back at Yuuri. “Yuuri, let’s go.”

The hopeful, almost childish expression of excitement on Victor’s face was as charming as it was unexpected. In the few days he’d known the other man this was the first time Yuuri had seen him like this. “Well, I guess that would be ok. I just finished making notes for my revisions.”

“Yay! Okay, let’s get ready. Dress warmly!” Victor turned and disappeared back down the hallway.

Yuuri looked after him for a moment and then slowly got to his feet, stretching and grunting. “What’s Mt. Pilatus?” he asked, glancing towards the kitchen.

“It’s a mountain a bit south of here along the lake. It’s a big tourist attraction. Cable cars, a cogwheel train, a visitor's center complete with hotels and restaurants at the summit. I’m a little surprised it wasn’t already on your tourist’s itinerary.” Chris stood up and folded the paper. “It’s very beautiful. You’ll have a good time.”

Yuuri chuckled. “And you’ll probably be glad to have us out of your house for a little while.”

Chris laughed. “Me? Never. I love the fevered air of tension you’ve both brought into my living room.” He smiled teasingly.

Yuuri smirked. “Well just remember that you’re the one who invited us both here.”

“I’m well aware. And in all honestly I’m enjoying it. But you have been working very hard. It will be good for you to get out and relax. Have fun with Victor. I’ll take you to the station when you’re ready.”

About forty-five minutes later Yuuri and Victor were waiting on the platform for the train that would take them to Alpnachstad. Yuuri couldn’t help but watch Victor out of the corner of his eyes. Gone was the man with the disheveled hair and the tea stained sweater. The Victor standing next to him now looked perfectly polished in a camel hair coat, the collar turned up against the chilly autumn air, a cashmere scarf tied loosely around his long neck. His hair was brushed neatly to one side over his high, elegant forehead.

Standing next to him in his anorak and faded blue jeans made Yuuri feel incredibly plain in contrast. Though he thought anyone would probably feel plain standing next to Victor Nikiforov.

Victor noticed Yuuri’s gaze and after a moment turned his head to look at him. “Yes? Something on my face?”

Yuuri started, flushing as he realized he’d been caught watching the other man. “No, no. I just... was thinking how put together you are.”

Victor laughed. “You mean in contrast to the slob I am at Chris’ house?”

Yuuri blushed a bit more and rubbed the back of his neck. “Weelll... I wasn’t going to go that far, but...”

Victor’s expression became somewhat wistful, almost self-deprecating. “When I’m writing nothing else really seems to matter. Sometimes I don’t eat or sleep. I wear the same clothes for days.” He chuckled softly, scratching the end of his nose. “It’s honestly a pretty embarrassing side of myself. It’s not something I would usually show to someone I don’t know well. But for some reason I feel like it’s alright to show this side of myself to you. I hope it hasn’t shattered your image of me too much.”

The look in Victor’s eyes became so soft and unexpectedly intimate that Yuuri actually gasped. His mouth went dry as he tried to think of how to respond. “N-no,” he croaked finally. “I don’t mind. It’s just... unexpected. I feel like... like why is it _me_ that gets to know this Victor Nikiforov? Ever since you showed up at Chris’ you’ve been so totally natural. So open and accepting of someone like me who’s just one of your fanboys. I mean, it’s not like I’m anyone special.”

Victor furrowed his brows. “That’s not true. I think you’re very special, Yuuri.”

“Well, I guess it’s still hard for me to believe you like my writing that much.”

“No, it’s not just your writing. I-”

Victor’s words were cut short by the sound of train brakes squealing and an announcement over the platform’s intercom, first in German and then in English.

“The train is arriving on platform 4. Please have caution and stand behind the yellow line.”

Yuuri took a step back, reaching out without thinking to grasp the cuff of Victor’s coat, tugging him back as well. “This must be our train?” he said, distracted as he looked up the tracks, watching the train come barrelling up to the platform.

“Yes. This is our train.” Victor’s voice was soft and his gaze lingered on Yuuri’s fingers where they clasped his coat sleeve. His fingers twitched towards the other man’s, and then he pulled his hand away with a soft intake of breath through his teeth.

The train wasn’t crowded and there were plenty of seats. Yuuri slid into one, taking the seat next to the window. Victor hesitated a moment and then sat in the seat directly next to it. Yuuri glanced at him. “You don’t want a window seat of your own?”

Victor smiled teasingly. “I can see over your head. You’re shorter than me.”

Yuuri snorted. “Oh, I see.” He looked back out the window as the train doors hissed shut and the train began to pull away from the platform.

“Besides, this way we can still talk.” Victor canted his head. “Unless you’d prefer for me to move. I don’t mean to crowd you.”

Yuuri looked back at him, shaking his head. “No! No, I don’t mind, I just...” He didn’t really know why Victor would want to sit so close to him with so much of the train available. That’s what he wanted to say. But he also knew that it was just his insecurities talking. For whatever reason Victor really did seem to find him interesting. “I didn’t want to be the only one with a nice view. That’s all.”

Victor’s smile became a little mischievous. “My view is just perfect.”

Yuuri nodded and looked back out the window. “That’s good then. As long as you can see.”

They didn’t end up talking very much on the short trip. The track went along the edge of Lake Lucerne and Yuuri was content just to watch the beautiful scenery. Even though his own home country was mountainous, the beauty of the Alps was different somehow. It seemed simultaneously more rugged and more pastoral.

“You know you can take cruises on the lake,” Victor said after a while.

“Mmhm. I went out on one while I was exploring Lucerne last week.”

“Ah.”

Once in Alpanchstad they transferred to the cogwheel train that would take them up to the summit of Mt. Pilatus.

“This is the steepest cogwheel train in the world. It’s been in operation since the 1890s,” Victor said as they sat down next to one another, Victor giving Yuuri the window seat once again.

Yuuri chuckled. “I think maybe you missed your calling as a tour guide.”

“Well, I would probably be good at almost anything I put my mind to,” Victor said with a shrug, his tone making the statement seem like a matter of course.

Yuuri looked at his reflection in the window, shifting his focus to Victor’s reflection behind it. “Why do I think that you’re probably not wrong?”

They chatted a little as the train made it’s ponderous progress up the steep tracks, leading up the side of Mt. Pilatus. The view slowly became more and more spectacular whenever Yuuri looked behind them. The steep mountainside giving way to rolling foothills and meadows leading down to the lake which spread out between mountain peaks like poured glass.

“ _Koyasan mitai ne,_ ” he said quietly under his breath.

“Hm?” Victor perked, unable to make out what Yuuri had said.

Yuuri glanced at him, tearing his eyes from the view. “Oh. Nothing, sorry I was just mumbling under my breath. Saying to myself that it reminded me of Koyasan, er... Mt. Koya. There’s a cable car kind of like this that you have to ride to get there. It’s one of those places in Japan you inevitably field trip to while you’re in school.”

“I see. And why do people go there? What’s at the top?”

Yuuri chuckled. “Temples. A whole town that’s nothing but Buddhist temples. Not to mention Japan’s largest graveyard.”

“That sounds like a rather morbid place to go on a field trip,” Victor said with a chuckle.

Yuuri smirked wryly. “I guess. It’s really beautiful, though. It’s peaceful. Unlike anywhere else I’ve ever been. And,” he grinned, leaning towards Victor a little, “if you take pictures in the graveyard there are always spirit bubbles in them.”

Victor’s eyes widened. “Spirits? Like ghosts?”

Yuuri nodded. “Uh huh.”

“I want to see them! I want to see the ghosts!” Victor’s face had taken on that unexpectedly childlike quality of unabashed excitement again, and Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well... if you ever go to Japan I’ll take you there then.” He made the comment almost off-handedly, looking back out of the window.

“Ok,” Victor replied, his voice quiet as he watched Yuuri’s face in profile. It was like looking at the picture of him in real life. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

“It really is, isn’t it?” Yuuri replied, his eyes fixed on the landscape.

At the top of the steep cogwheel railway was the Pilatus Kulm, a sort of visitor’s center on steroids. It boasted two restaurants, two hotels, and an outdoor observation area roughly the size of a football field. It was situated on a ridge at the mountain’s summit and you could see down both sides of the peak from either side of the platform.

Yuuri shivered in his jacket, pushing his hands as far into his pockets as he could as they made their way towards the edge where they could look down on Lucerne Lake.

“Are you cold?” Victor asked as they stepped up to the rail.

Yuuri’s breath puffed out in a white cloud as he exhaled. “A little. I should have worn another layer, I guess.”

Victor unwound the scarf from around his neck and held it out as he pulled his jacket tight around the front of his throat. “Here. This will help.”

Yuuri balked. “Ah... No, I couldn’t. Then you’ll be cold.”

“Yuuri, I’m Russian. This is not cold. Please, take it.” He chuckled as he pushed the scarf into Yuuri’s hands. It was still warm from Victor’s body heat.

“Oh. Ok. Thank you,” he said quietly. It was so soft in his hands that he almost didn’t want to put it on, but a strong gust of wind that came up from the slope below changed his mind quickly. Wrapping it around his neck he tucked it into his anorak and pulled it up across his chin and mouth. The soft fabric tickled his lips and a sweet, but masculine fragrance filled his nose.

He realized it must be Victor’s smell coming off the scarf. Without thinking he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose.

Victor’s brows rose as he watched the younger man. “Are you... smelling my scarf?”

Yuuri jerked. “What?!” he looked over at Victor, eyes wide, face bright red. He couldn’t believe he’d been caught red handed doing something so embarrassing. And he hadn’t even realized he was doing it.

Victor blinked at Yuuri and then laughed. “You were! You were sniffing my scarf!”

Yuuri spluttered. “W-well... no! I mean... yeah? It smells good! It must have... some of your cologne or something on it... It’s not my fault it smells good!” he summed up defensively.

“Does that mean it’s my fault?” Victor said with a grin, stepping closer to Yuuri. “Maybe it’s not my cologne. Maybe it’s just how I smell. Maybe you should sniff me and see if I also smell good.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Yuuri took a step back, holding a hand up between them. “I’m not going to sniff you, Victor.”

Victor laughed and then pouted. “Aww, Yuuri, you’re so mean.”

Yuuri snorted. “Stop teasing me, or else I’ll just give it back to you.”

Victor chuckled. “Ok, ok. I’m sorry. I’ll stop teasing.”

They stood side by side at the railing in a mildly awkward silence, looking down at the valley of Lucerne Lake far below. It was late afternoon now and already the sun was starting to sink.

“I bet it’s beautiful watching the sun go down from here,” Yuuri said.

“Mmm. And the stars are nowhere else more beautiful than seen from here. They feel so close, so vast.” Victor looked up and let out a puff of breath at the gray clouds that were starting to cover the sky. “But I don’t think there will be many stars to see tonight.”

“Hm?” Yuuri looked up as well. “No. Doesn’t look like it.”

As they both gazed up at the gray sky the first flakes of snow drifted down, catching on their lashes.

Yuuri blinked. “Ah. It’s snowing. I guess Chris was right.”

“Seems so.” Victor closed his eyes, feeling the flakes gently fall against his face, each one like a tiny, cold kiss against his skin.

Yuuri watched him, pulling the scarf up around his nose again. He wondered what the almost rapturous look on Victor’s face meant. After a few moments he looked away, feeling like his gaze was somehow invasive, like he was spying on a private moment. He stood at the railing, gazing out into the alpine distance, watching the snow fall between him and the rest of the world.

The flakes quickly began to fall harder and the wind coming off the peaks blew them around in little flurries.

When Victor opened his eyes, his gaze fell immediately to Yuuri. The white flakes catching in his dark hair, his distant, longing gaze, the soft flurries of snow swirling around him. It was like Yukito had come to life before his eyes. As if in that moment they truly were completely, undeniably, inseparably the same person.

His Yukito. His Yuuri. His beautiful boy in the snow. His beautiful boy on the train.

Victor’s heart leapt in his chest, hammering so hard he almost felt sick.

“Victor? Is something wrong?”

He blinked. He hadn’t even realized Yuuri was looking back at him. “What? No. I’m fine.” His voice sounded thick in his own ears.

“Are you sure? You had... the strangest expression on your face.” Yuuri turned at the railing to face him fully.

Victor shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “Ah. I’m sorry. This place is... rather nostalgic for me. I must have just been lost in thought.”

“Oh. I see. Maybe we should go inside. It’s gonna be hard to see anything with the snow falling so hard. And maybe we could both use something to eat.”

Victor nodded. “Yes, you’re probably right. But first... can we take a picture together?”

Yuuri blinked and then smiled. “Sure. I’m not very photogenic, though.”

Victor barked a laugh, almost snorting the statement was so preposterous. “I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit. I’m sure you’ll look fine.”

He stepped next to Yuuri at the railing and put his arm around his shoulder, turning them both around so that the landscape far below was behind them. He drew his phone from his pocket and held it up. “Ok. Selfie time! Lean in close.”

Victor’s closeness made every nerve in Yuuri’s body light up. The arm around his shoulder, the press of him against his side. The fact that he could smell that sweet scent not just from the scarf, but actually coming off of Victor. It made his head swim a little.

He nervously slid his arm around the other man and leaned in. Victor tipped his head towards his until they actually touched. “Say cheese!”

Yuuri didn’t say cheese, but he did smile, though it was a slightly strained, uncertain smile. The phone made a clicking sound as Victor pressed the button.

“Yuuri?” Victor’s voice was a husky murmur in his ear. A jolt went through Yuuri’s body and he turned his head to look at Victor, eyes wide. Their noses were only about an inch apart. Victor was looking back at him with a soft, intense expression. Yuuri felt his eyelids flutter as his lips parted in a soft gasp.

The phone clicked again and Victor grinned. “That second one is going to be a good picture,” he said with a wink and then stepped back.

Yuuri croaked, feeling like he’d somehow been tricked, his head swimming and his heart racing. “V-victor!”

Victor laughed. “Come on, Yuuri!” he started walking away, beckoning to him with one hand. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. A Good Scent From a Strange Mountain - Is the title of a collection of short stories about Vietnamese immigrants living in Louisiana State in the US. It was written by Robert Olen Butler in 1992.
> 
> 2\. You can learn more about [Mt. Pilatus here.](https://www.pilatus.ch/en)
> 
>  
> 
> **Follow me on tumblr and twitter!**  
> [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com/)  
> [@martymuses](https://twitter.com/martymuses)


	5. Dance Dance Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liiiiive! Once again I'm sorry for the long wait. I know everyone says "don't worry about it" but it has been over a month. I had a cold that turned into a respiratory infection the first half of the month and that slowed me down at work and in personal life. But finally, Chapter 5 is here. ^^ 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it. ;)
> 
> **Follow me on tumblr and twitter!**  
> [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com/)  
> [@martymuses](https://twitter.com/martymuses)

**_On Love_ **

**_Part 1: Storge_ **

_Family._

_In the kitchen of his dead father’s white wife Riki wondered what it meant. Was it this woman’s blue eyes reflected in her daughter’s face? Was it the familiar checkered linoleum floor? Was it the burning feeling in his guts every time he looked at Ricky?_

_No that was something else._

_Love. Hatred. Jealousy. Desire. Ownership. A jumble of wanting._

_The plastic glass made a soft sound on the laminex table top. “Lemonade.”_

_Riki looked up. Ricky was there all blue eyes and sharp nose and dirty blonde crew cut. Riki smiled. “Thanks.”_

_“So. You’re taking classes together, Ricky tells me. Do you find it difficult? Taking classes in English?”_

_Riki looked at his father’s white wife. Her smile was thin. She was suspicious. Did she see something unsettlingly familiar in his foreign face?_

_He wrapped his fingers around the plastic glass of lemonade, feeling the cool condensated drops of water against his skin. “No. My English is fluent from living on the base when I was young. It was--” he searched for the colloquialism, “--rusty, at first. But it’s fine now.”_

_She laughed a little. A brittle, thin sound. “Like riding a bicycle.”_

_“Yes, ma’am.” Riki’s smile spread to his eyes._

_“Anyway, Mom, you said you wanted to meet him. So here he is. You gonna grill him about boring stuff, or can we go work on our project?” Ricky sat down at the table, his joints loose and arrogant._

_“Don’t be rude, Ricky. I’m just curious about this new friend you talk about so much.”_

_Riki felt hot. He looked at Ricky, his smile wry. “You talk about me?”_

_Ricky rolled his eyes. “You’re not as boring as the other nerds in class,” he grinned._

_The girl hadn’t said anything. She swung her legs under the table and looked at them back and forth._

_Riki sipped his lemonade._

_The woman sighed. It tremored._

_“Well. It was nice to meet you Riki. I guess you boys can get to work. Let me know if you want snacks or anything.”_

_“Thank you, Mrs. Parker.”_

_They walked through the house. His father’s house. His brother’s house. The house of his father’s white wife. The house that should have been his mother’s. Riki tried not to hungrily devour everything with his eyes._

_Ricky’s room was exactly as he’d imagined it would be. He sat on the bed. Ricky sat down next to him. Close. Their knees touched._

_“Hey,” Ricky said softly. He leaned back on his hands so that their shoulders brushed._

_Riki looked into his lemonade._

_“Hey,” Ricky repeated. Their knees bumped._

_Riki turned his head to look at him. He hated his soft, beautiful fucking face._

_“What?”_

_“I wanna take you somewhere this weekend. Will you go with me?”_

_Riki stared at him for a moment. His other half. His beautiful, white, doppleganger. The boy he should have been. The life he was robbed of. His secret sensitivity. His perfection. Everything he wanted to be. Completion. Wholeness._

_“Where?”_

_“Just somewhere. Say you’ll come.”_

_“Ok. I’ll come.”_

* * *

 

The trip to Mt. Pilatus shifted something between Yuuri and Victor. More and more, they felt that gravitational pull of orbiting objects.

Whereas they used to write in separate places - Victor usually in the bedroom and Yuuri at the coffee table in the living room - now, consciously or otherwise, they seemed to end up in the same place more often than not. Victor now sprawled on the couch, his laptop propped up on a pile of throw pillows with Yuuri on the floor, his laptop on the coffee table.

This occupation of mutual space gave them the opportunity to observe one another as they wrote, which they did with open curiosity.

Yuuri was what one of his professors described as a “stop and go” writer. For several minutes he would sit, completely focused, typing furiously. And then, abruptly, he would stop, sitting still and silent as he stared into space, no expression on his face. During these frozen moments the wheels inside his head turned as he ruminated, constructing his story piece by meticulous piece until there was enough to warrant another burst.

Victor, on the other hand, did his writing and ruminating in long marathon stretches rather than bursts and fits. And he was as expressive in his writing process as he was on the page. The way he typed - furious, soft, slow, halting - belied the kind of scene he was writing, and the expressions on his face gave away the emotions of his characters. His lips often moved in silent dialogue.

Where Yuuri was inscrutable, Victor was transparent.

They didn’t talk a lot when they were writing, but there was something deep and profound about what was exchanged in those long hours of silent, shared labor.

For Yuuri it was still strange, being privy to _this_ Victor Nikiforov. This real and tangible man who would sometimes gently touch the top of his head when he passed by him. Whose smell he knew. Who sometimes stood shirtless on Chris’ porch in the freezing night air because it was “invigorating.”

“Do you do that in St. Petersburg?” Yuuri asked him once, sardonically.

“Yes, but I live in the city and my balcony is small, so it tends to be received with cat calls,” had been Victor’s teasing, but truthful response.

Little by little, Yuuri realized that his fear of knowing Victor, that thinking it could somehow ruin him, was unfounded. On the contrary, every new thing he learned about the real Victor Nikiforov only made him more and more certain of how much he adored him. Utterly, absolutely, fantastically adored him.

Not just his writing, but his voice, his laugh, his often ridiculous sense of humor. The way he refused to wear socks. How pale and bony his sockless feet were. Each look cast in his direction. Every heart-shaped smile.

And as his awareness of his adoration grew, so too did Yuuri’s anxiety, his sense of vulnerability.

Yuuri found himself in a place he’d been many times before. Caught between the longing to be closer to someone and the fear of their inevitable rejection. The fear that the closeness he so desired would only make them realize how inadequate he was. That his need would be perceived as weakness.   

These feelings sat with him for nearly a week before he finally worked up the nerve to reach out to the one person he knew wouldn’t make him feel like an idiot.

Yuuri bundled up in his anorak and Victor’s scarf, which he’d taken to wearing whenever he went out. It was early evening and Johannes and Chris were in the kitchen starting dinner.

“I’m going to take a quick walk. Need to stretch my legs,” he called from the doorway as he stepped into his shoes.

“Is Victor going with you?” Chris asked.

“No, he’s doing his... coalescing thing on his bed. Figured I’d leave him be.”

Chris chuckled. “Alright. Don’t be gone too long. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour.”

“Ok. I won’t.”

He headed down the street leading out of Chris’ neighborhood towards a little park near the lake shore. It was chilly and there was a bite in the air that was new. He’d been at Chris’ place for about two weeks now, and the days were already growing colder and shorter as September gave way to October. His breath came in soft white puffs as he walked down the foot path to the lakeshore and plopped onto one of the benches lining the walk.

He took a moment to breathe deeply and appreciate the colors of the setting sun on the glasslike surface of the water. Then he pulled out his phone.

Y: _Hey_ . _Are you busy right now?_  

Yuuri’s leg bounced a little as he waited for a reply. Maybe he should have texted Phichit before he left the house. That probably would have made more sense, but he wanted to go somewhere he might have some privacy. He shivered a little as he stuffed his free hand back in his pocket and looked over the water.

His phone vibrated in his hand.

P: _Yuuri! I’m so happy to hear from you!_  
_I was just getting ready to go out._ _  
_ But I’m not like BUSY

Yuuri smiled at his friend’s response. For some reason he’d been avoiding contacting him. The idea of trying to explain everything that had happened in the past two weeks was just overwhelming. But there wasn’t any way around it now.

Y: _Can I call you?_

P: _Yes! Please!_

He tapped his friend’s number and held the phone up to his ear, listening to the faint, digital rigning.

“Yuuri! How are you?!”

As soon as he heard his friend’s voice, Yuuri’s tension eased away, and he felt so stupid for being too anxious to contact him. “Hey, Phichit. I’m sorry. It’s been-”

“Weeks!”

Yuuri snickered. “Yeah. It’s been a couple weeks.”

“I was getting worried. You hardly even texted.”

Yuuri twisted his lips, feeling guilty. “I’m sorry. Things have been... kind of weird.”

“Weird? Why? Oh my God, did that Chris guy turn out to be a creep or something?” Phichit’s voice raised with a mixture of alarm and scandalized interest.

“What? No!” Yuuri laughed. “No, nothing like that. Chris is great.”

“So... what’s been going on then? Just, like, you’ve been caught up in working on your manuscript or what?”

“Yeah, actually. I have been really engrossed in working on it.”

“That’s awesome!”

“But...” Yuuri hesitated, glancing over his shoulder as if to make sure no one he knew was around. “That’s not all.”

Phichit’s voice was eager now, “Then what? Tell me.”

Yuuri found himself flushing, though he didn’t know why he should. A kind of nervous fluttering started in his chest. “Well, you know how I told you that I found out that Chris and Victor Nikiforov are, like, personal friends?”

“Yeah?” The eagerness had gone up a notch.

Yuuri cleared his throat, finding it kind of tight. “Ok, so... guess who he invited to come visit and workshop my book. Without telling me.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment and then, quietly, “Oh my God. Are shitting me?”

“I’m not,” he said, voice tight, a nervous, excited laugh escaping at the edges. “I’ve been sharing Chris’ guest room with Victor Nikiforov. He was just _there_ when I arrived. All smiling and like, ‘Yuuri! I’m so excited to meet you!’”

“What?!” Phichit voice exploded on the other end of the phone.

Yuuri couldn’t help a giggle, infected by Phichit’s excitement. “I know! Chris told him about me. About my book. He _sent him my book._ Victor Nikiforov _read_ my book and then got on a plane and came to Lucerne to hang out and talk about _my_ book. He told me my writing is brilliant. And we’ve been sitting around for days just... writing. And it’s so... so insane, Phichit!” His words came out in an almost frantic babbling. It was such a relief to tell someone who didn’t think it was completely normal to hang out with your idol.

“I’m so _jealous!_ Yuuri... I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! How could you keep this from me for two weeks?”

Yuuri felt a pang of guilt and he flushed a little. “I’m sorry. It was just...overwhelming. I totally freaked out when I met him. It was, honestly, really embarrassing.” He groaned a little.

Phichit sighed, but Yuuri could tell from his voice he was smiling. “That’s so you. But you’re over the freakout now, right?”

“Yeah, more or less.” He smirked wryly. “I think we actually get along pretty well.”  

“Oh yeah? What’s he like? Tell me everything.” Phichit moaned, “My life is so boring in comparison to yours right now.”

Yuuri worried his lip for a moment as he thought about what Victor was like. “He’s... amazing. I mean he’s... real. Like a real person. He’s funny and quirky and likes to stand shirtless in the freezing cold for no reason.”

“Well, he is Russian.”

Yuuri giggled. “Yeah,  he is.”

Phichit gasped. “Does he have a sexy accent?”

“Umm... I guess? His accent isn’t that thick, honestly. But... it’s nice. I like his voice.” Yuuri felt some heat rise into his face.

It was Phichit’s turn to giggle. “You’re totally crushing on him, aren’t you?”

“What? No! It’s not... I mean. I admire him. I like him,” Yuuri said with a decisive nod of his head.

“Are you sure you don’t _like_ like him?”

Yuuri’s face got hotter, but he scoffed. “What is this, grade school?”

“Don’t deflect. You didn’t answer my question.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. After a moment of sitting there with his mouth open he finally said, “I don’t know. I’m... attracted to him. But he’s probably the most attractive person I’ve ever met, so I don’t know how anyone could _not_ be attracted to him.” He twisted his lips, thinking about Victor, about that growing feeling of adoration. “It’s kind of hard to pull apart exactly what I feel. He’s amazing. I love being around him. I’m so... honored, to get to share this experience with him, and get to know him like this. But, like... is that what you feel when you _‘like_ like _’_ someone? I don’t know how to parse out my admiration for him as a writer and my feelings for him as a person well enough to say that I... _like_ him.”

Phichit sighed softly. “You can’t. No matter what you feel for him that admiration and the fact that you’ve idolized him for so long are going to be a part of it. You can’t separate it out like it doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, but, it feels ingenuine to try to convince myself that a celebrity crush is anything other than a fantasy. Besides, it’s not like-”

“Don’t say ‘it’s not like he would ever return my feelings’ or some dumb, self-deprecating, low self-esteem crap like that. You are amazing, Yuuri. Whether you believe it or not. You’re cute and you’re smart and when you aren’t getting in your own way you are fun and funny and sensitive and wonderful. Anyone can see that. Even Victor Nikiforov. Even if flowers come out of his ass. Which they don’t. He cries and has painful shits, just like everyone else.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I know, I know, I just... I feel like I’m way out of my depth.”

“Then just float. I know when you think you’re drowning your instinct is to panic and struggle, but if you just take a deep breath and relax and let yourself float, then what happens, happens. But I know you, and I know the reason you finally called me is because you’re on the verge of driving yourself into a nervous breakdown.”

Yuuri closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out again slowly. “You’re right. That’s exactly why I called you.” He took another deep breath. “I really... want to be closer to him. Even as friends would be amazing. I’m honestly not hoping for or expecting anything else. I’m not even really hoping for or expecting that. I just... I feel so drawn to him. And it’s... terrifying to think he might not like who I really am. Or, worse, that he might find me irritating.”  

“Yuuri. Whether you make red hot booknerd love with Victor Nikiforov or not, you are having the most amazing experience possibly of your life. Just being there in Switzerland with him and Chris Giacometti is... it’s unbelievable. And you need to enjoy it. Give yourself permission to enjoy this amazing experience and Victor Nikiforov’s occasional shirtlessness.”

“I am enjoying it.”

“Then does anything else really have to matter? You’re making progress on your book. With Chris and Victor’s help you’re _definitely_ going to get published. You’re hanging out with your idol. Everything you’ve been wanting, that you’ve been working towards, is happening. And you deserve it. Tell that to yourself every time you start to feel anxious.”

They were both quiet for a moment. ThenYuuri smiled wryly. “I should pay you for therapy.”

“You should pay _someone_ for therapy.”

They chuckled, like at an old joke, and then sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments.

“So how’s the actual book coming?” Phichit asked at length.

“It’s good. I’ve finally started on an ending and I think it’s going to stick this time.”

“That’s great! I can’t wait to read it.”

“I can’t wait to have something _for_ you to read.” Yuuri smiled softly, his fingers tightening around his phone for a moment. “Thanks, Phichit. For everything. Really, I mean it. You’re really good at putting up with me.”

“Yuuri,” his voice was soft, but a little stern. “I don’t put up with you. You’re my best friend. Neurotic as you can be, I love you, and I’m always here for you. Now go make Victor Nikiforov fall in love with you.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes and shook his head, though his cheeks were feeling hot again, despite the dropping temperature. “I’m not sure anyone could make Victor do anything he didn’t want to.”

Phichit laughed. “Ok, fair enough. But next time you call I totally want to talk to him. No fair keeping him all to yourself.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

They chuckled together and then momentarily fell silent again before Phichit spoke up. “I was on my way out to meet some friends for after class shenanigans, so since you’re feeling better, I’m gonna get going. But I miss you a ton! And you need to keep in touch more.”

“Ok. I will, I promise. Say hi to anyone I know.”

“I’m going to tell them all about how you’re getting to hang out with Victor Nikiforov and they’re all going to die of jealousy and foam at the mouth. I can’t wait.”

“You’re awful,” Yuuri laughed, but was secretly pleased by the thought of how incredibly jealous his current situation would make just about everyone they knew in the MFA program. “But I totally want you to play it up.”

“You bet I will! Talk to you later.”

“Bye, Phichit. Thanks again.”

Yuuri took a deep breath and tapped the red icon on his screen. He was feeling that heavy, cathartic rush of coming down from an anxiety high. That sleepy, calm, sinking into the floor feeling. The last streaks of fading color from the setting sun reflected on the lake. He sat back against the bench, tucking his phone in his pocket as he took it all in.

It was already October. Next month was his birthday. Even though he knew he wasn’t old enough to be depressed by the thought of growing a year older, he still found it melancholy.

“Yuuri! There you are! That is you, isn’t it?”

Victor’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, but strangely he found he wasn’t startled to see the other man approaching him across the park, bundled up in his camel hair coat. Makkachin was snuffling through the frosty grass in front of him.

“No,” he said, his lips twisting in a wry smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s definitely not me.”

“Really? That’s strange you look exactly like this cute Japanese guy I know. Are you sure it’s not you?” Victor was grinning.

Yuuri’s cheeks were hot. Victor said he was cute. “Well, if it’s a _cute_ Japanese guy you’re looking for then it’s definitely not me.”

Victor paused at the bench, looking down at him. Yuuri realized Victor was going to see him wearing his scarf again and his hand touched it reflexively, as if he could hide it. His face became even hotter.

“No. It’s definitely you.” .

Yuuri swallowed. “Oh. Well, then I guess you found me.”

Victor held Yuuri’s gaze a beat longer than was necessary and then sat down with him on the bench. “What are you doing down here?”

“I just wanted to go for a quick walk. Stretch my legs and get some fresh air before dinner.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, shivering a little. “What are _you_ doing down here?”

“Chris told me to come find you. Dinner’s almost ready. I thought it was a good chance to walk Makkachin.”  

The old poodle walked by them, still snuffling at the grass.

“Should we get back then?”

“Mm. In a minute. It’s nice here.” Victor’s gaze was directed out over the lake.

“Yeah.”

They sat in companionable silence while sunset turned into twilight and the streaks of colors disappeared from the lake’s surface.

“Yuuri?” Victor asked at length. “Can I ask you something?”

Yuuri turned his head to look at Victor again, admiring his profile. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Are you glad that I came here?”

The question surprised Yuuri, and he felt a pang almost like guilt. How could Victor doubt it? “Of course! Getting to know you... spending all this time with you and writing and talking about writing with you is amazing. I’m really happy that you’re here.”

Victor smiled brightly, turning his head to look back at Yuuri. “Good! I’m glad.” His smile became a little rueful. “I have an admission to make. That first night when we met I overheard a little of what you said to Chris after dinner.”

Yuuri felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. “Victor, look I was really-”

“I know, it’s ok. And we said we wouldn’t talk about that night. But I was just worried a little. That maybe you really had become disillusioned or something. Or that maybe you realized you really didn’t want to know me so personally. I know when you have someone you look up to it’s hard to think about them just being a regular person.”

Yuuri twisted his lips and then smiled almost timidly. “Victor, I don’t think you’re a regular person at all. But I really like the person you are.”

Victor opened his mouth, but then closed it again. The look on his face was almost pained and for a moment Yuuri wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Then Victor smiled softly. “I think that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Yuuri blushed and he was glad the light was growing low. “Well... it’s true. I’m... I’m really happy you’re here. That I got to meet you. That we can spend all this time together.”

They stared at each other for a prolonged moment and then Victor shifted on the bench, turning his body towards Yuuri. “Hey, Yuuri, let’s do something fun again this weekend,” he said suddenly. “Ok? Let’s go out!”

Yuuri blinked. “Go out... where?”

Victor pursed his lips and made a thoughtful humming sound and then grinned. “Do you like to dance?”

* * *

 

For a city that wasn’t actually that large, Lucerne had a surprisingly robust offering of bars and nightclubs. But the best place to dance, according to Chris, was Casineum, an old theater in the Grand Casino Luzern that had been converted into a dance club.

“I’m so excited!  I haven’t been dancing in forever,” Chris said as they pulled up to the valet outside the casino. Johannes had remained relatively subdued on the drive over and out of the four of them looked the least enthused about going clubbing. He seemed to have agreed to come along only to play chaperone to his boyfriend.

Yuuri felt a nervous thrill as he got out of the back seat. The Grand Casino Luzern was a large, elegant building along the northern shore of the lake. It was lit up with thousands of lights, giving it an almost magical feeling.

“Wow,” he said as they left the car keys with the valet and walked towards the entrance. “Are you sure I’m not underdressed?” he said with a wry smirk.

Chris laughed. “You don’t have to worry. The casino is pretty elegant, but the club is your typical hot mess. I was going to wear my mesh tank top, but Johannes wouldn’t let me.” He pouted a little.

“It’s too cold, Chris,” Johannes replied mildly.

Once they were inside they left their coats at the coat check and then made their way to the queue to get into the club. Yuuri could hear the low, thumping beat of the dance music from inside. He swayed unconsciously, moving his hips subtly back and forth as they waited.

Victor watched him quietly. He’d honestly been surprised when Yuuri readily agreed to go out to a dance club despite his apparent introversion. It seemed that for every assumption he made about the young Japanese man, Yuuri was ready to surprise him with twice as many contradicting truths.

It had been amusing to watch him fuss over what he was going to wear. Neither of them had that much with them to begin with, and they’d both more or less ended up in a t-shirt and jeans, though Victor had a blazer on as well, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  His eyes fell to Yuuri’s vaguely swaying hips for a moment and then he touched his shoulder to get his attention.

Yuuri looked over his shoulder, a faint color rising into his cheeks. “Victor?”

Victor smiled, his blue eyes slightly hooded. “Do you go out dancing a lot at home? You seem pretty comfortable in this kind of atmosphere.”

Yuuri blinked and then smiled ruefully. “I guess that surprises you?”

Victor shrugged. “A little. Yes.”

Yuuri shuffled forward as the line moved a little. “I took ballet as a kid. Well, up through high school, actually. I was pretty good at it. There’s a woman from my hometown who was a world famous ballerina. After she retired she opened a studio. A lot of the kids in Hasetsu grow up taking classes from her. I always liked ballet. It was kind of an outlet, a way to really focus my mind.”

Victor raised an eyebrow, leaning towards Yuuri a little. “So am I going to see you doing plies out on the dance floor?” He grinned, expression teasing.

Yuuri smirked. “Noooo.” They shuffled forward another couple feet. “When I went away to college the first time-”

“The first time?”

Yuuri held up a finger. “You only get to question one part of my mysterious past at a time.”

Victor chuckled, “Oh, I see. Please continue.”

“Anyway, it was pretty much my first time in a big city. I joined the dance club at school, not realizing that dance didn’t strictly mean ballet.” He chuckled. “We used to go out dancing on the weekends for fun.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“And then after two years of college in Japan, I realized that if I wanted to be a writer and write in English I probably needed to, yanno, actually be studying in English. So that’s when I decided to study abroad in the U.S. Which basically meant starting college all over again.”

Victor nodded making an “ah-hah” sound. “This is the second time, I wager.”

Yuuri nodded. “So there I was in a foreign country. My English was ok, but I was really shy about talking at first. I didn’t really know how to meet people. I’ve never been that great at making friends anyway. So I figured I’d start with something I was comfortable with. I joined the campus dance club and took classes just to have fun and meet people. And when all of your friends like to dance... you go out dancing a lot.”

“I see.”

“So that’s more or less how I spent my undergrad in the U.S. Detroit has a pretty great nightlife. All kinds of clubs, all kinds of music, all kinds of people. I don’t go out much anymore, though. Most of the people I know now are in my MFA course, and I don’t have a lot of extra time or energy.” They were almost to the door now.

Victor was looking at Yuuri with an appraising, curious expression, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

It made Yuuri feel a little nervous. “What?” he chuckled.

“Nothing. I’m just... it’s fun to learn new things about you. And now I’m excited to see you dance.”

“You weren’t excited before?” Yuuri teased.

Victor laughed. “I was, but my expectations were not very high.”

“Ouch!” Yuuri laughed. “What about you? Can you actually dance or are you just gonna do the white guy shuffle?”

“I am going to do the Russian squat dance, obviously,” Victor said airily. Yuuri raised an eyebrow, causing the other man to laugh. “I can dance. Maybe not as well as you, but I can dance.”

They’d made it to the front of the line. “I guess we’ll see,” Yuuri said with a grin.  

Like any club the Casineum was full of strobing lights, throbbing music, and sweaty bodies. But unlike most clubs it maintained a kind of regal elegance from its days as a theater. Where the seats once were was now a dance floor. The stage remained intact, but now hosted DJs and live bands rather than theatrical performances. Above them, the second floor balcony had been converted into a sitting area and bar where patrons could look down on the dancers below. And high above everything, crystal chandeliers hung as if still intent on illuminating a place of culture.

“Let’s go find a table upstairs!” Chris yelled over the music, leaning in towards Yuuri and Victor. “Then we can get some drinks.”

Pushing through the crowd the four men made their way up to the balcony. Through some magic Chris managed to snag a table from a group heading out to the casino. It was right up against the balcony railing, giving a great view down onto the dance floor.

Yuuri leaned against the railing, looking down at the mass of people moving in an unorganized jumble. It made his stomach twist in a mixture of excitement and anxiety. He didn’t really like being around a lot of people, but he did like dancing.

“What do you want to drink?” Victor’s voice was so close to Yuuri’s ear that it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He turned part way around. Victor was standing close to him. “Oh, uh...” he looked into the other man’s face and then leaned in closer so he could be heard over the music. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything.”

“Don’t be silly! That’s half the fun of going out,” Victor protested. His expression softened a little. “Please, let me buy you a drink.”

Yuuri hesitated. “Well. Ok. Just one drink. I’m really not that good with alcohol.”

“I’ve always heard that Japanese people can rival Russians in their ability to drink. It’s not true?” Victor grinned.

Yuuri snorted and rolled his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t have any tolerance. I’m just... not really myself when I drink too much.”

“Isn’t that the point, though? It’s good not to be ourselves sometimes.”

Yuuri could have sworn that he saw Victor’s hand move towards his out of the corner of his eye, and for a startling moment he was sure their fingers were going to touch. When they didn’t he was left with an odd, hollow sensation of unfulfilled anticipation. He was sure his face was turning beet red.

“So?” Victor said, putting his lips near Yuuri’s ear again. “What do you want? To drink, I mean.”

Yuuri had to swallow down his heart, which had risen into his throat, before he could answer. “Just... uh... a beer is fine. Whatever is good that’s on tap.”

Victor chuckled. “Alright. A beer it is.”

Yuuri’s heart was hammering in his chest as he watched Victor and Chris head towards the bar. He slid into a chair at the table with a sigh. Johannes was looking at him across the table with a mild expression. He leaned towards him.

“He likes you.”

Yuuri was having a hard time understanding him over the music. He leaned towards Johannes over the table. “What?”

“He likes you! Vitya. He likes you.”

Yuuri blinked. “O-oh. Well... Yeah, I think we’re becoming pretty good friends.”

“No, I mean he _likes_ you.”

Yuuri’s heart started moving back towards his throat. “No, I don’t... I don’t think so.” He shook his head with a nervous laugh.

Johanne’s eyebrows rose mildly. “You think I don’t know him?”

Yuuri balked. “No! I didn’t mean that. I just...” His eyes cut towards the bar where Victor and Chris were waiting together, laughing, looking handsome. “He doesn’t really know me, and... I’m not...” He trailed off, thinking about Phichit chastising him for being so self-deprecating all the time.

“All the same. He likes you. He likes, at the very least, the idea of you.” Johannes turned his attention to the bar as well. “You can tell from his writing, can’t you? How he’s a hopeless romantic. How he believes in fate and serendipity and all that.”

Yuuri couldn’t deny that. It was one of the things he loved about Victor’s work: the unapologetic romance of it. Even when that romance was also tragic.

Victor must have felt his gaze, because he suddenly looked over from the bar and Yuuri’s heart skidded as their eyes met. He swallowed when Victor smiled and gave him a little wave. He waved back and then looked back at Johannes.

“Vitya’s not like other people,” Johannes went on. “The world works in a different way for him. He can be obsessive. Single minded. It’s easy to get caught up in it.”

Yuuri furrowed his brows, frowning a little. “Why... are you telling me this? Are you trying to warn me off?”

Johannes looked a little surprised and then laughed with a shake of his head. “No, no. Nothing like that. I’ve known Vitya for years. I care about him a lot, not just as a friend of Chris, but as a friend of my own.” He was quiet for a moment, leaning closer. “He doesn’t have a lot of people looking out for him.”

Yuuri looked more confused and a little embarrassed. “I still don’t understand why you’re telling me.”

“Because, I just want you to know. You seem like the kind of person who maybe isn’t that aware of how they attract other people. So I’m telling you: Vitya likes you. If you also like him, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell him. But if you aren’t interested you should tell him clearly. Otherwise he will just keep pining and interpreting things in whatever way suits him.”

The thought of Victor “pining” for him was as ridiculous as it was exciting. Yuuri glanced back at the two men at the bar, now collecting drinks on a tray. “Oh my god. How many drinks are they buying?”

“Mmm... my guess would be two rounds of shots, a round of jager bombs, and our original drink orders.”

Yuuri balked. “I told Victor I wasn’t very good with alcohol!”

Johannes grinned and shrugged. “Well, you probably shouldn’t have told him that.”

Yuuri swallowed as he watched Chris and Victor carry not one, but two trays of drinks back to the table. Victor slid into the seat next to him, grinning, and Yuuri felt a surge of something electric go through him, so much more aware of his physical closeness than he had been before. He looked at him out of the corner of his eyes.

Could Johannes be right? _Could_ Victor actually be interested in him? It seemed unlikely. Victor was so ridiculously good looking, not to mention famous and adored.

“Chris thought we should get shots,” Victor said, leaning in towards Yuuri conspiratorially.  

“Oh, don’t act like it was all my idea,” Chris said with a snort as he started to line the shots up in front of each of them. “Alright, so we’re going to have a little drinking contest.”

“Oh no...” Yuuri groaned.

Chris grinned. “Vodka first.” He pointed to the first shot.

“It’s good vodka,” Victor interjected with a serious nod.

“Whiskey second,” Chris continued, pointing to the amber colored shot. “And then the jager bomb. You know what a jager bomb is, right?” He looked at Yuuri.

Yuuri snickered arched an eyebrow. “I went to college, Chris.”

Chris chuckled and clapped his hands together. “Ok, so first one to down all three doesn’t have to pay for any of their drinks tonight.”

“What if we hadn’t intended to drink anything else to begin with?”

“Yuuri, stop being a party pooper,” Chris said with a sniff.

Yuuri sighed and reached for the first shot glass, but not moving it from where it sat on the table. Everyone else did the same.

“Ok, on the count of three. One. Two. Three.”

* * *

 

Victor pushed his way through the crowded dance floor towards Chris. He was disappointed to see that his friend was dancing alone.

“Have you seen Yuuri?” he shouted.

Chris didn’t pause in his full body gyrations as he leaned towards Victor. “He went to the bathroom.”

“When?”

Chris’ eyes rolled up as he tried to recalled. “I don’t know. Maybe... fifteen, twenty minutes ago? Maybe it was more like half an hour ago.”

Victor sighed. “Chris. You should be watching him. He’s had a lot to drink!”

Chris laughed, smirking at Victor slyly. “And who keeps buying the drinks for him?”

“Well, he won the drinking contest,” Victor said defensively.

Chris just laughed and rolled his eyes. “Stop worrying! He’s a grown man. Maybe he went upstairs to sit with Johannes.”

Victor shook his head. “No, I just came from there.”

“Check the bar maybe?” Chris pursed his lips. “Or maybe just stop fussing and come dance with me.” He grinned and reached out to grab the front of Victor’s shirt, trying to pull him in close.

Victor gently pulled Chris’ hand away. “Not right now. I want to find him first.”

Chris groaned and gave Victor a push towards the edge of the dance floor. “Fine then. You’re such a worrywort.”

Victor pursed his lips. After the first round of drinks the three of them had gone down to the dance floor, leaving Johannes to hold court at the table. Over the course of an hour and a half - and a few trips back to the bar - Yuuri had proven himself to not only be a better dancer than either he or Chris, but to be a surprisingly uninhibited one.

He’d left Yuuri dancing with Chris about an hour ago, telling himself it wasn’t because he was tired, but because it wasn’t fair to leave Johannes alone all night. He’d watched Yuuri and Chris - though mostly Yuuri - from the balcony. But about half an hour ago Yuuri had disappeared into the crowd.

Victor knew he probably shouldn’t be worried. Yuuri was, just as Chris said, a grown man. But he’d also said he wasn’t very good with alcohol. What if he was in the bathroom throwing up or, worse, passed out?

On the way towards the bathrooms Victor glanced towards the bar. If he hadn’t looked twice he probably wouldn’t have realized that the man draped against the bar talking animatedly to a tall, broad-shouldered stranger was Yuuri. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and his t-shirt was turned inside out. He had what looked like a mojito in one hand.

Who the hell was that guy at the bar with him? Victor changed direction.

“Yuuri!” he called as he got closer. “Yuuri, there you are.”

Yuuri didn’t respond. He was still chatting with the stranger, all smiles and hooded drunk eyes. It wasn’t until Victor was right next to him, saying his name again that he reacted. “Yuuri!”

Yuuri blinked and swiveled his head around. “Oh, hi Victor,” he said sweetly, smiling and standing up a bit straighter.

Victor glanced surreptitiously at the stranger, irritated that he was slightly taller than he was. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Yuuri gave an innocent flutter of his lashes. They looked incredibly long without his glasses on. “I’ve been right here.”

Victor glanced more fully at the other guy, now placing himself a little closer to Yuuri. “Who’s your new friend?”

“Hm?” Yuuri looked at the other guy and then giggled. “Oh yeah. This is... uh...”

“Andre,” the other man said coolly, sizing Victor up with his eyes.

“Yeah. It’s Andre. He bought me a drink.” Yuuri held up his glass and shook it a little. The ice cubes tinkled softly as they shifted together and Victor could see the glass was pretty much empty.  

“Two drinks,” Andre corrected with a smirk.

“Yes. He bought me two drinks,” Yuuri said with a decisive nod. “He’s very nice.”

Victor felt an unpleasant heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Yuuri, I think you’ve probably had enough drinks. Let’s thank Andre and then go upstairs.” He reached out to take Yuuri’s arm, tugging him away from the bar.

“Oh. Ok. Thanks, Andre.” He smiled at the tall man and set the glass down on the bar top.

“Hey, we were still talking here,” Andre said sharply, straightening up and taking a step towards Victor.  

Victor squared up with him, pulling Yuuri slightly behind himself. “Actually, you’re done talking with Yuuri.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and there must have been something in Victor’s eyes that told Andre he should quit while he was ahead, because he backed down pretty quickly. “Whatever,” he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “I don’t need this kind of shit. He should have said he was with someone.”

“Maybe you should have asked,” Victor growled and tugged Yuuri away from the bar towards the stairs leading up to the balcony.

“Hey! Victor! Wait!” Yuuri protested as he stumbled after him, pushing through the crowd. “Wait!” He pulled back against Victor’s grasp. Victor stopped, turning around and then pulled Yuuri towards him sharply.

“Who the hell was that guy?”  

“What do you mean?” Yuuri grumbled, yanking his arm out of Victor’s grasp. “I told you. Andre.”

“But why were you drinking with him? You let some stranger in a bar buy you drinks?”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that what you do when you go to bars? Besides he was a nice guy. I’m not a baby. I don’t need you to chaperone me.” His words slurred a little bit and he had to steady himself by planting his feet more than once.

“Where are your glasses?” Victor asked, changing the subject.

The question stopped Yuuri in his tracks. “What?”

“Your glasses,” Victor repeated, waving his hand in front of Yuuri’s eyes. “You’re not wearing them. Where are they?”

Yuuri touched his face with both hands, feeling around for his frames. “Oh shit.” He started patting himself down. “I had them... they were... “ His hand paused on his butt as he patted his back pocket. “Ah hah!” He produced the frames from his pocket with a flourish. “They’re right here, smarty pants.”

Victor sighed in relief. “Good. You should put them back on.”

“Nooo,” Yuuri whined, putting them back in his pocket. “They get in the way. I wanna dance more.”

Victor pursed his lips. “What about your shirt?”

“What about my shirt?”

“It’s inside out.”

Yuuri looked down at himself and his brows raised. “Oh yeah. I... mmmm... spilled. Something. I took it off and turned it around in the bathroom. That’s where I met Andre.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed and he growled faintly as the heat started up his neck again. “I bet it is.”

Yuuri stared at Victor for moment and then giggled. “What, are you jealous? Of Andre? Cause he saw me shirtless in the bathroom and bought me two drinks?” he teased.  

Victor’s brows furrowed and his hands balled at his sides. “Of course I’m jealous!”

Yuuri’s eyes widened, surprised by Victor’s outburst. “Oh.”

For a moment they stared at each other. Then Yuuri looked down, shuffling his feet. He chewed the inside of his lip and then reached out, taking Victor’s hand. He looked up. “You wanna dance with me?”

Just like that the unpleasant heat subsided and Victor felt his irritation ebb away. Yuuri’s hand felt hot and a little sticky in his own, but the touch made his heart race. “Weren’t we just dancing earlier?” He smiled wryly, amused by the sweetness of Yuuri’s drunken face.

“Yeah, but... we weren’t dancing together.” Yuuri took a step closer. “I want you to dance _with_ me.”

Victor felt like his heartbeat was louder than the music. “That’s different?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Yeah. It’s different.” They looked at each other a moment longer, less than a foot between them. Then Yuuri stepped back, tugging on Victor’s hand. “Come on.”

He lead them into the crowd, pushing through the swaying bodies. The DJ had just started a set with a slow, mellow tempo. When Yuuri stopped, he didn’t turn around. He pulled Victor’s arm around his waist, backing up against him. His other arm reached back, fingertips grazing Victor’s neck and jaw before he pushed his fingers into his hair. Yuuri tipped his head back against Victor’s shoulder, and their hips began to sway to the rhythm of the music.

Victor could feel the heat of Yuuri’s skin through his shirt. The moment seemed strangely surreal. This Yuuri was more how he imagined his Yukito: soft yet sensual, assured, unhesitant. Was that what Yuuri had meant by alcohol making him “not himself?” And if this wasn’t really Yuuri, who was it? Did it, could it, mean anything? Or was he just doing what people did when they drank too much? Acting on impulse. Letting their inhibitions go. Making regrettable decisions.

Was dancing with him like this something Yuuri might regret? And if so should he even be letting it happen?

The thought made something sharp go through Victor’s chest, and his arm tightened around Yuuri’s waist. It was so unlike him to feel this kind of uncertainty.

“Hey.” Yuuri’s voice broke his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing. What do you mean?” Considering what he _had_ been thinking about the question was a little startling.

Yuuri turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Victor. “You stopped moving.”

“Oh.” Victor realized it was true. Immediately he began to sway his hips and move his feet in time with Yuuri’s again. “Sorry. I must have been distracted.”

Yuuri smirked and chuckled. “Don’t you think that’s kind of rude? Letting something distract you when I’m right here trying to dance with you.”

Victor smiled, chagrined. “Yes. You’re right. It’s very rude. It won’t happen again.”  

“Good,” Yuuri murmured, tipping his head back against Victor’s shoulder again.

Their senses tuned to one another. The feel of Victor’s fingers gently constricting through the fabric of Yuuri’s t-shirt. The sound of Yuuri’s breaths so close to Victor’s ear. Each others’ scents mingling with the smell of sweat and smoke and old alcohol that permeated the club.

They weren’t sure how long they stayed like that, or how many songs they swayed to, but for a while they seemed to occupy a world all their own. And then the music changed to an upbeat dance set. Yuuri pulled away and spun around, grabbing Victor’s hands and pulling him into a lively - if relatively uncoordinated - series of dance moves.  

They laughed and held onto each other, bumping into other dancers only to laugh harder. Their hands sought each other as they danced, clasping and unclasping, arms wrapping around necks and waists, dipping, spinning. They made a spectacle of themselves, and it wasn’t until they were both completely out of breath and clutching at their sides that they stumbled together off the dance floor. They made to one of the walls, and Victor paused, leaning against it to catch his breath. But Yuuri’s hand found his again and he pulled him further along, turning down the dimly lit hallway that lead towards the bathrooms.

For a moment Victor thought that’s where Yuuri was taking him, and his heart and stomach fluttered on the brink of panic. But they bypassed the bathroom door, walking all the way down the hallway to the very end where the only light was from a neon emergency exit sign.

It was quieter there, as the loud music of the dancefloor faded away down the corridor. Victor’s ears were ringing and everything sounded vaguely muffled.

“This is where I went,” Yuuri said suddenly.  

“What?” Victor asked.

“Before. You said you’d been looking for me. I was looking for somewhere quiet for a few minutes. Then I went to the bathroom and met that guy when I was turning my shirt around.”

Victor furrowed his brows. He wasn’t sure where Yuuri was going with this. “Ok...”

“I didn’t really want to have a drink with him, but... I wanted... to clear my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Johannes said earlier.”

“Why? What did he say?”

They were standing close together and Yuuri backed himself against the wall. His hand was still in Victor’s, fingers twisting around, seeking to twine themselves into the other man’s. “He said...” Yuuri swallowed, his heart stuttering in his chest as it tried to make the journey back into his throat. “Johannes said...” He licked his lips, forcing himself to look into Victor’s eyes, “He said that... you like me. But he didn’t just mean like; he meant... _like_ like me _._ ”

Victor was silent. He felt the inside of his mouth going dry. “And you were thinking about it? About me liking you?”

Yuuri’s eyes searched Victor’s face for any sign that he was teasing him or making fun of him, but Victor wore a serious, almost pained expression.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It didn’t make sense why you’d like me. I couldn’t stop thinking he was wrong. That you were just being nice to me. That you were interested in me as a writer, nothing else. It was kinda depressing, so I wanted to keep drinking. But then... you got jealous over that random guy and I thought, ‘Oh shit, maybe Johannes is right.’”

Victor’s heart was beating fast, but rather than going up into his throat, his had sunk down into the pit of his stomach. He shifted forward, his hand trying to find Yuuri’s waist in the glow of the exit sign. “And now?” he murmured.

“Now,” Yuuri swallowed, “I drug you into this dark corner to ask you if... if it’s true. If you... like me.”

“I like you,” Victor said immediately, his body drifting even closer to Yuuri’s. He could feel the heat coming off of him.

“Why?” Yuuri breathed.

“Every reason you can imagine.”

Yuuri shook his head. “I can’t imagine any.”

Victor paused, finding Yuuri’s reply almost heartbreaking. He was so beautiful and so talented. So smart and funny and interesting. How did he not know? How did he not see everything that Victor saw in him? How did he not know how deeply he moved him, how profoundly he had inspired him?

He gazed into Yuuri’s eyes. Without his glasses on they were even more beguiling than usual. “Please, just trust me. There are so, so many reasons. You are like a beautiful muse.”

“I don’t understand,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. “I’ve admired you all this time. You’re my idol. Victor, this is insane. I just-”  

“Yuuri, just accept it.”   

“That’s not- Hmm!”

Yuuri’s back arched as Victor’s mouth covered his. He tasted like expensive vodka tonics and jager bombs. Yuuri’s free hand clutched at the front of Victor’s shirt, twisting the fabric as he pulled him closer. He was glad the wall was behind him because his limbs were already aching from the alcohol and the dancing and now they were trembling as well.

Victor’s fingers went through his belt loops. His hips pressed Yuuri’s hips firmly against the wall.

“Don’t break my glasses,” Yuuri gasped as their lips parted.

“Ok,” Victor panted, sliding his hand around to pull Yuuri’s glasses out of his pocket, sliding them into his own, before returning it to his hip. .  

Yuuri pulled his hand out of Victor’s, wrapping his arm around his neck and pushing his fingers into his hair. Victor pulled him closer, sliding his tongue against his lips. They clutched and pawed at each other, bodies moving and pressing against one another.

Yuuri couldn’t remember the last time he’d _made out_ with someone, frantically grasping and gasping, dry humping like teenagers at a school dance. Maybe he couldn’t remember, because there hadn’t been a last time. Had he ever done anything like this with anyone before? Making out in a club? Pulling at them like he was trying to disappear inside of them in a dark corner?

“Victor,” he murmured.

“Yes, Yuuri?” Victor whispered back, his breath tickling against Yuuri’s wet lips.

“I like you, too.”

Victor smiled. “Only now that I’ve kissed you?”

“No, before. I liked you before.”

Victor touched their flushed faces together. “I know.”

Yuuri swallowed. “Did you... know before?”

“Not really. I hoped. I wanted you to. I wanted you to feel the same draw I’ve felt since I first saw you on the train.”

“I did. I felt it. I-” Yuuri blinked. “The train--?”

Victor cut off any further inquiries with another kiss, breathing in the smell of Yuuri’s skin, slightly sweaty from dancing.

The questions about Victor’s comment buzzed around in his head, trying to collect themselves into some kind of sense through the alcohol and the rush of his emotions. But as Victor pressed him back against the wall, they melted away into the warmth of his mouth. Yuuri arched against him, heart pounding, mind whirling.

Victor’s hand was searching for a way under his shirt when they were interrupted by the sound of a man clearing his throat. They looked up, both flushed and dazed. One of the club security guards was standing a few feet away in the hallway. His hands were on his hips. He looked at them for a moment and then said something in clipped, but not entirely unfriendly sounding German.

“If my German is correct, he said no heavy petting in the club,” Victor said, grinning sheepishly. “Come on. Let’s go find Johannes and Chris. We can continue this later.”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of continuing “this” later. He swallowed, smiling apologetically at the security guard, as he let Victor lead him away by the hand.

As they made their way up the stairs to the balcony he smiled at Victor’s back, enjoying the feeling of their fingers laced together. Chris and Johannes were both at the table. Neither made any comment about their clasped hands as they approached.

“I see you found each other,” Chris drawled and then yawned. “Good. I was about to gather a search party. I’m tired. I think it’s time to go home.”

Johannes looked relieved.

Victor looked at Yuuri. “Do you want to stay? We can keep dancing if you like. We can get a cab later.”

Yuuri swallowed and shook his head. His heart was still pounding and his head still wasn’t able to wrap itself fully around the reality of their make out session. “No. Home is good. I’m pretty tired.”

Chris stood up. “Then home it is.” He gave Victor a sly smile as he passed by.

They closed their tabs and collected their coats. The whole time Victor kept his fingers laced with Yuuri’s. And when they climbed into the back seat together, Yuuri promptly fell asleep with his head on Victor’s shoulder and their fingers still laced together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Dance Dance Dance - I don't know if anyone has noticed or figured it out, but the title of each chapter is taken from the title of a book. This chapter's title comes from Haruki Murakami's novel of the same name. (I will update the previous chapters to include the origins of the other titles)
> 
> 2\. Storge - In YOI we learn 2 Greek words for different kinds of love: eros and agape. But there are actually (depending on who you ask) 5-7 words in Greek meaning love. "Storge" is the Greek word for "familial love" or sometimes translated as "brotherly love." Yuuri's novel is titled "On Love" and broken into parts, each of which is subtitled after one of the Greek words for love. 
> 
> 3\. Grand Casino Luzern - This is a real place and a real casino in Lucerne Switzerland. It's one of the more well known landmarks in the city and a popular tourist attraction. 
> 
> 4\. Casineum - This is also a real place. 
> 
> 5\. Jager bomb - For those of you who haven't "been to college, Chris" a jager bomb is a drink (that I once favored heavily in my wild days of abandon) that involves a shot glass of Jagermeister (a dark German liquor that tastes faintly like black licorice) and about a half a pint glass of Red Bull. You drop the shot glass into the pint glass and then chug the whole thing in one go. Tastes like candy and it will get you DRUNK.
> 
> **Follow me on tumblr and twitter!**  
> [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com/)  
> [@martymuses](https://twitter.com/martymuses)


	6. A Sleep and A Forgetting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is November 29th, which means it is the glorious day that both Yuuri Katsuki and I were born. That's right. This boring date that used to have no particular interest attached to it, I now share with the most beautiful boy in creation. 
> 
> In celebration I am finally posting chapter 6. It is the holiday season after all. I have social obligations ever weekend between now and New Year's and I'm already exhausted just thinking about it. That said, you can probably expect a longer delay before chapter 7 is ready. I'm just gonna be REAL busy for the next month. But I promise to try to work on it when I have time. 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with the story and sending me love and support and through your comments both here and on tumblr and twitter. I really hope you enjoy chapter 6. ^^
> 
> **Follow me on tumblr and twitter!**  
> [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com/)  
> [@martymuses](https://twitter.com/martymuses)

Yuuri woke in that laborious, disoriented way people wake up when they’re hung over. It was a fitful process full of mumbling and jerky movements. He tried to roll over, only to be thwarted time and time again as he hovered at the cusp of wakefulness. He was hot, and had the distinct impression of being tangled up in something. His groggy, fuzzy mind logically concluded it was the bedding. But further struggle proved that whatever was holding him was much more solid than bed sheets. And considerably warmer. 

With a deep breath he did his best to try to sit up, but found himself physically restrained. 

“ _ Nyet. _ ” The word was mumbled and it was  _ close _ . The last dregs of Yuuri’s sleep fell away as his eyes sprung open. 

The ceiling swum into focus. Yuuri’s eyes shifted left first. There was the wall. His head gave a throb and he groaned before shifting his eyes right. There was Victor. Literally right next to him, his face just inches from his on the pillow. His eyes were closed, his long, pale lashes almost touching his cheeks.  

For a moment Yuuri just stared, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Then he realized Victor wasn’t wearing a shirt. The realizations that Yuuri was also not wearing a shirt and that Victor’s arm was wrapped around his waist - the reason he hadn’t been able to move - followed closely. 

Yuuri’s heart stuttered in his chest and his stomach erupted in a riot of fluttering that, combined with his hangover, made him feel a bit like throwing up. 

_ Am I wearing pants?  _ The question came almost immediately to his mind, and Yuuri was relieved - and also a bit embarrassed - to realize that he was still wearing his jeans from the night before. 

Now, assured that while he was in bed with Victor Nikiforov he wasn’t  _ naked _ and in bed with Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri took a deep breath and tried to make sense of what was going on. He tried to remember the night before. Waiting in line at the club. Shots on the second floor. Dancing. A bathroom? A hallway? After a certain point there were just vague impressions, and then... nothing. This was why he wasn’t supposed to drink. 

Closing his eyes for a moment Yuuri tried to call up memories of the later part of the night, but the effort left him with a splitting headache and the  _ wump wump  _ of house music repeating in his ears. 

He turned his face towards Victor’s again, and again there was that fluttering feeling of nauseating excitement. He was in bed with Victor Nikiforov. However he’d gotten there, that fact was undeniable. He could smell his sweet scent and feel the warmth of his body against his own as he studied his beautiful, sleeping face. 

Trying to calm himself Yuuri closed his eyes again, taking a couple deep breaths. When he opened his eyes Victor was sleepily staring back at him. 

Yuuri gasped, breath catching in his throat. A slow smile spread across Victor’s lips and Yuuri felt like he was going to melt into the bed. 

“Good morning,” Victor mumbled as if he wasn’t surprised at all to be waking up like this beside him. 

Yuuri swallowed. “Uh... g-good morning.” 

Victor chuckled, his voice husky and croaky with sleep. “Are you hungover?” 

Yuuri let out a  nervous little laugh, though he regretted it almost immediately. He winced at the pain in his head. “Yeah.” 

“You drank a  _ lot. _ ” 

Yuuri took a slow, measured breath and furrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah.” 

Victor pouted a little. “I’m sorry. I should have stopped you. But it’s not my fault you disappeared to drink alone with some stranger.” 

_ What?  _ Yuuri tried to keep his face as expressionless as possible. He didn’t want to give away the fact that he had no idea what Victor was talking about. But not remembering didn’t make the statement any less alarming. 

“Uh... no, I guess it’s not. Sorry about that.” 

Victor pouted a moment longer, but then his dazzling, sleepy smile returned. “It’s alright. Because afterwards,” he murmured, his face moving closer, “you said you liked me.” 

Before Yuuri could react, Victor’s hand was cradling his face, the tips of his fingers brushing his ear. His lips, so soft and light it was almost as if they weren’t kissing him at all, touched his, not once, not twice, but three times. 

Yuuri’s entire body went still. His heart felt like it was trying to get out of his chest through his mouth. Meanwhile the nervous, nauseous fluttering of his stomach resumed as his limbs began to throb with a delicious lightness. 

Victor was kissing him. And not in a tentative, questioning, first kiss kind of way. It was soft and sweet, but it wasn’t shy or uncertain. It was a kiss from lips that had touched his before. It filled him with equal parts excitement and anxiety. 

Victor’s nose touched Yuuri’s and he felt his warm breath against his face. Victor’s fingers moved down the back of his neck, nails lightly trailing through the hair at the nape. It sent a thrill down Yuuri’s spine. The nervous, nauseous fluttering intensified. 

Yuuri swallowed. “Victor?” he croaked. 

“Yes?” came the sweet, still sleepy reply. 

“I need to go to the bathroom. I think I might be sick.” 

There was a heartbeat’s pause and then Victor pushed up on his elbow, looking down at Yuuri with a stricken expression. “Is my morning breath that bad?” 

Yuuri pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, I’m that hung over.” 

Yuuri rolled quickly to the side, pushing himself up and scrambling out of bed as quickly as he could. He almost tripped over his own feet as he blundered out of the guest room, thanking God that the bathroom was right next door. 

It seemed a little sacrilegious to throw up immediately after kissing Victor. But there wasn’t really anything Yuuri could do about it. He was just glad he made it to the toilet in time. 

When it was all over, Yuuri sighed, sagging against the toilet, reveling in the coolness of the porcelaine. He stayed like that for a moment and then pulled the flusher and got to his feet. He felt a lot better now, though while the nauseous feeling was gone, the fluttering in his stomach remained. 

Leaning against the sink, Yuuri stared in the mirror for a moment. He looked a mess, dark hair sticking up in sweaty clumps, his complexion pale and greasy from not washing up the night before. He tentatively huffed into his hand, cringing as he smelled his own breath. He couldn’t believe Victor had kissed him in this state. 

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat. 

Victor had kissed him. Not only this morning, but probably - no certainly - the night before. How could he not remember something like that? Groaning, he leaned forward against the mirror and gently banged his forehead against it a couple times, leaving a greasy smudge on the glass. He could feel his anxiety rising. This was all new, unfamiliar, unexpected territory. But it wasn’t exactly  _ unwanted.  _ And that realization made Yuuri more nervous than anything. 

Johannes was right. Victor  _ was _ interested in him. At least he remembered that conversation. 

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri screwed up his face and then looked at himself sternly in the mirror. 

“Don’t freak out. Just... go with the flow. Like Phichit said: you can’t drown when you’re floating.” Nodding to himself he turned on the tap and proceeded to vigorously wash his face and then brush his teeth more thoroughly than he’d probably ever brushed them before. 

Stepping back into the hallway he took an unsteady breath and made it about two steps towards the guest room and Victor, before panic overtook him and he turned around, briskly walking the other direction out into the living room. 

Chris and Johannes were in the kitchen making what smelled like breakfast, though it had to be well past noon.   

“Oh, sounds like you’re having a good morning,” Chris said with a chuckle. His eyes were bloodshot, but he looked less hungover than Yuuri felt. “You sent your prayers to the porcelain god?” 

Yuuri looked over his shoulder down the hallway, worried Victor might appear behind him at any moment. He hurried into the kitchen, eyes darting between Chris and Johannes. “What happened last night?” he hissed with some urgency. 

Chris’ eyebrows rose and Johannes looked up from the stove. “We went dancing,” Chris said in a tone that also said “duh.” 

Yuuri gave him a look. “I know that. I mean...” he swallowed and glanced back towards the hallway, “...what happened between Victor and me?” 

Chris and Johannes exchanged a glance and then Chris’ lips curled up at the corners into a sly smile. “Why are you asking us? You’re the ones who disappeared for half an hour and then came trotting back to the table holding hands like you were going steady.” 

Yuuri’s mouth fell open. “When? When did that happen?” 

Chris and Johannes exchanged another look, both of their expressions becoming more confused. Chris shrugged. “I don’t know. Towards the end of the night..” His brows furrowed. “Why?” 

Yuuri twisted his lips and then took a deep breath before sighing, deflating a little as he did. “Ok, look. This is between the three of us.” He pursed his lips, hating to have to reveal one of the most embarrassing things about himself to anyone, but knowing there was no way around it at this point. “I’m a blackout drunk. Like, if I drink too much, I don’t remember anything. And I drank a  _ lot _ last night.” He glanced towards the hallway again, feeling some of that nauseous feeling return to his stomach, though this had nothing to do with being hungover. “When I woke up this morning Victor and I were in the same bed-” 

“Oh my,” Chris said, his voice suddenly sultry. 

Yuuri looked at him crossly. “Nothing happened! I still had my pants on.” 

Chris made a disappointed noise and leaned against the counter. 

“Anyway,” Yuuri continued. “We were all... cuddled up and then Victor woke up and... he just  _ looked _ at me with this look and then...” Yuuri swallowed feeling the fluttering intensify as he recalled the soft, bare feel of Victor’s lips against his. “He kissed me. Like... like he wakes up every morning and kisses me just like that.” 

Chris and Johannes exchanged another look and then they both started to laugh softly. “That sounds like Victor,” Johannes said as he pushed sausages around the frying pan. 

The comment made Yuuri frown a little, and it struck him how very little he really knew about Victor. Standing in the kitchen with these two men who knew him so well, it made him feel kind of lonely. He pursed his lips. “Well... I mean... it’s obvious that something happened between us last night. But I don’t know what exactly.” 

“Why don’t you just ask him?” Chris said with a shrug. 

“No!” Yuuri hissed. “No, absolutely not. Victor cannot know that I don’t remember anything. He’ll... he’ll think I’m an idiot or an alcoholic. Or, worse, he’ll think I didn’t know what I was doing.” 

Chris sipped from the mug he was holding. “Well, to be fair, if you can't remember any of it, you might not have known what you were doing.” 

Yuuri scowled a little and shook his head. “No, I’m sure... I’m sure whatever I did and said last night I meant it. I mean... It’s not like I’m not happy to... that...” He fumbled for the words as he wrestled with what he was feeling. “That something happened. I’m... glad that it did. I had no idea what to do about how I was starting to feel, how much I was starting to like him.”

Yuuri swallowed. His drunken self had obviously had way more courage than his sober self ever would have. Whatever risks drunken Yuuri had taken the night before, he was thankful to him. He’d given him the thing he’d been so afraid to reach for himself: a closeness with Victor far beyond anything he’d ever imagined. 

“I mean... I know to you two he’s just a normal friend, but to me... he’s still...  _ Victor Nikiforov. _ ”

Chris raised a bland eyebrow. “And you’re... just some guy?” 

“Exactly,” Yuuri said with a decisive nod of his head. 

Chris groaned a little. “Oh, Yuuri. You’re so oblivious to your own charms.”

Yuuri wanted to retort that he didn’t have any charms, but instead he took a moment to consider Chris’ words. Was  _ he _ even the charming one? Was it really the drunken Yuuri that Victor had been attracted to last night? Afterall it was  _ that _ Yuuri Victor had kissed,  _ that _ Yuuri that had told Victor he liked him. Had Victor said it back? Had Victor said aloud the words that confirmed Johannes’ suspicions? 

Had Victor told his drunken, forgotten self that he liked him? That he wanted more with him? Had he held him tightly as they kissed, or had it just been a hurried exchange of lips? Had they danced together? Had they talked about anything else? What had they said to one another? 

And how would Victor feel if he knew that Yuuri didn’t remember any of it, that is was like it didn’t happen? He would be disappointed, hurt at the very least, maybe even disillusioned. He might not want something with the Yuuri who couldn’t remember their first kiss.  

He didn’t want that to happen. 

Yuuri’s old, familiar fears were creeping in on him and they were quickly becoming overwhelming. 

“Yuuri?” Chris’ voice broke through the fog of his self doubt. 

Yuuri gasped, his eyes focusing on his friend. “Sorry. What... did you say something?” 

Chris’ expression was a little concerned. “I was just saying I think Victor would understand, but if you don’t want him to know, I certainly won’t tell him.” 

Yuuri nodded and sighed, feeling a little relieved. “Thanks, Chris.” He swallowed and worried his lower lip a little. “Then... can I ask you a favor? Will you find out from Victor what happened? He’ll tell you, I’m sure, if you just ask him like you’re being nosey about it.” 

Chris snickered. “Well... I was going to grill one of you about it anyway. So I suppose I can collect the dirt and report back.”  

Yuuri sighed, visibly relieved. “Thanks.” 

Johannes glanced at Yuuri. “Do you remember anything from last night? What’s the last thing you do remember?” 

Yuuri twisted his lips and tried to call up whatever memories he could. “We went to the club and stood in line. Victor and I were talking about how I learned to dance while we waited to get in. Then we had some shots, and while Chris and Victor were at the bar you told me that you thought Victor was interested in me.” 

“Hans,” Chris looked at his boyfriend crossly, putting his hands on his hips. “I can’t believe you were so blunt about it. You’re supposed to let things play out naturally.” 

Johannes shrugged and even though Yuuri couldn't see his face he was sure he rolled his eyes. “Why? So they could keep spinning around each other in circles until Victor goes back to St. Petersburg?” 

Johannes’ words, said so casually, struck Yuuri hard. He hadn’t even been thinking about the fact that eventually Victor would have to go back to Russia. Let alone the fact that Yuuri was going to have to figure out what he was doing with his own life. They’d already been at Chris’ for more than two weeks. How much longer could they stay there in this insulated pocket of space and time together? 

It was almost like he’d forgotten about the real world entirely. But Johannes’ comment brought it back into focus, suddenly looming large. This was all temporary. 

Yuuri’s heart skipped in his chest and a bit of that nauseous feeling returned. Regardless of what had happened the night before or how drawn he was to Victor and vice versa, getting involved with him, really involved with him, was probably not going to have some happy outcome. They were from different worlds, different countries, different lives. 

_ This is all temporary. _ He repeated to himself in his head. 

“Yuuri?” Chris’ voice once again pulled him out of his thoughts. This time he was also waving his hand in front of his face. “Earth to Yuuri.” 

Yuuri blinked, his gaze focusing on the two men in the kitchen once more. “Sorry. I was just... um... trying to remember anything else.” 

Chris made a thoughtful sound. “From what I remember, after the shots we just danced for a while. At one point you left the dance floor and Victor came looking for you. After that I don’t know what happened, but I can only assume he found you.” Chris smiled slyly. 

“Heh. Yeah. He must have.” Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck, unable to shake the unsettling feeling in his stomach now. He’d been happy, if confused, just moments before. And now those uncomfortable feelings of not knowing what to do were returning. “I think I’m gonna go take a shower.” 

“Alright. Breakfast will be done by the time you’re out. If Victor emerges in the meantime I’ll grill him.” 

Yuuri smiled, though it felt a little awkward. “Alright.” 

He walked back down the hallway, realizing he was going to have to go back into the guest room to get something to change into after his shower. He took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves, and then pushed the door quietly open. Victor was still in the bed.  _ His _ bed, Yuuri realized. 

Looking around the room Yuuri took in the short trail of discarded clothing. His t-shirt, Victor’s blazer, one sock, Victor’s v-neck, a belt, another sock. Their shoes were in a small pile near the door like they belonged there together. He noticed that the second twin bed was askew and about a foot closer to the other bed than usual, as if some effort had been made to move them together.

He tried to imagine it, or maybe even remember it. Victor and him coming back to the room at some ungodly hour. Drunk, tired, holding each other up as they shed their clothes. Had they kissed again? Had they abandoned pushing the beds together because they were tired or because they were impatient? What had they said to one another? Had they talked at all or had they fallen asleep right away? 

Just imagining it made his heart beat faster, and he wished he could remember. It made him sad to think that moment they’d obviously shared would never really belong to him. 

He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it, and pulled himself together. He stepped over their discarded clothes to the bureau. He fished out a clean t-shirt and a pair of lounge pants before heading towards the bathroom.

He couldn’t help but pause by the bed again, looking down at Victor, his pale hair fanned out on the pillow. Even after a night of drinking and dancing and drunken confessions he still looked utterly perfect. 

Without thinking Yuuri reached out to brush his fingers against Victor’s pale cheek. As soon as he did Victor’s eyes fluttered open and he turned halfway onto his back, looking sleepily up at him. 

Yuuri could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment. 

Victor blinked at him and then smiled that sleepy smile again. “Are you coming back to bed?” His voice was still thick. 

The question made Yuuri blush all the way to the tips of his ears. “Uh... no,” he managed. “I was going to go take a shower. I feel kind of grubby after... last night.” 

Victor made a fussy sound and put on a pouty face. “Awww. I wanted to cuddle some more.” 

The blush worsened and Yuuri felt like his heart was trying to get out of his chest again. “Um... maybe... later?” 

Victor continued to pout for a few moments, but then sighed and smiled again. “Alright. I guess I might as well get up, too, then.” His eyes hooded. “We could shower together if you like.” 

“No!” Yuuri said immediately, stepping hastily away from the bed and heading for the door. “I really just want to get washed up. Chris and Johannes are making breakfast, so we shouldn’t keep them waiting! Ok. See you in a little bit!” He shut the door firmly behind him and made sure to lock the bathroom door before he got into the shower. 

Victor lay in bed for a few more minutes, frowning softly as he stared at the door Yuuri had disappeared through, before he finally got up. He pulled on his snowflake pajama pants and the cream colored sweater he’d been wearing the night he first arrived before heading out to the kitchen. 

He said good morning to Chris and Johannes and then quietly went about making himself a cup of tea. All the while his expression went from pensive to thoughtful. Finally he sat down at the counter and leaned over it towards the other two men. 

“Did you see Yuuri this morning?” 

“Yeeees,” Chris said, not looking up from the fruit he was making into a fruit salad. 

“Did he says anything? About me?” 

Chris looked up. “Are you seriously a thirty year old man?” 

Victor pouted. “Just tell me!” 

Chris sighed. “Why?” He raised his brows and smiled conspiratorially, leaning in towards Victor. “Did something happen?” 

“No. He’s just acting a little weird.” 

“How so?” Chris went back to chopping the fruit. 

Victor took a deep breath and then sighed, fussing with his tea mug. “It’s just... when we woke up this morning he ran off almost immediately. Right after I kissed him good morning! He said he wasn’t feeling well because he was hung over, but then he didn’t come back. And when he finally did come back he didn’t want to cuddle, and when I suggested we shower together he practically ran away.” Victor’s expression was almost comical with how desperate it was. “Now I wonder if he regrets what happened last night. So I just... I thought maybe he said something to you about it.” 

Johannes came over to stand next to Chris at the counter. “Why don’t you start by telling us what  _ did _ happen last night?” 

Victor’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I don’t know if I should. Kissing and telling and all that,” he hedged, trying to be coy. 

Chris picked up a strawberry and tossed it at Victor’s head. “You’re so obvious. You’re dying to tell us, so just tell us.” He chuckled. 

Victor tried to keep the smile from spreading across his face, but couldn’t. “Well, if you insist.” He grinned and proceeded to tell what had transpired the night before with the excitement of someone who is falling in love. From finding Yuuri at the bar with a stranger to his jealousy to dancing together, and finally what had transpired in the dark hallway. By the time he was done relaying the events of the night he looked positively glowing, but then his expression fell. 

“But then he was so cold this morning,” he whined. “Do you think he regrets it? I know he was drunk, but surely it wasn’t all just the alcohol. Right?” 

Chris gave him a sympathetic smile. “You know, Victor, you tend to go from 0 to 60 with almost everything. That’s just part of who you are. But try to be a little more patient with other people. I don’t think Yuuri regrets it, but he’s probably just trying to adjust to such a sudden change in your relationship. He  _ was _ drunk at the time. I’m sure he was much more uninhibited than usual last night. Not everyone moves at your speed. So just, maybe try adjusting your expectations and slowing down a little bit?” 

“Slowing down? It’s been two weeks!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that an extravagantly long amount of time to take to fall in love with someone?” 

“I was in love with Yuuri after just seeing his picture!” Victor said indignantly. “I came all the way here because I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Of course I want him to fall in love with me already!” He slumped forward and put his head down on his arms on the counter. 

Chris leaned forward and gently patted Victor’s head. He noticed then that Yuuri was standing just inside the hallway. He had an odd expression on his face, a mix of embarrassment, shock and confusion. He wondered how long he’d been there and what he’d heard. He gave him a slightly awkward smile and then leaned down further to murmur to Victor. “Well he’s here now, so stop acting like a baby.” 

Victor sat bolt upright, swiveling around on the bar stool. His eyes widened when he saw Yuuri and then his face lit up. “Yuuri! You’re done in the shower?” 

Yuuri smiled a shy, almost embarrassed smile as he walked towards the kitchen. “Yeah. I feel much more... human now.” He walked over to the counter, standing next to Victor. 

Victor smiled at him. He tried to keep Chris’ words about moving slowly in his mind, but he couldn’t help but reach out to take Yuuri’s hand, just wanting to touch some part of him. 

Yuuri looked down at their hands and blushed a little. “Um... do you know where my glasses are?” 

Victor frowned and then furrowed his brows as he thought. “Oh! Yes. They’re in my jeans pocket. You didn’t want them to get crushed.” 

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” Yuuri laughed nervously. 

“I’ll get them for you,” Victor said, sliding off the stool. “I need to wash up anyway. I’ll bring them back with me.” 

“Ok. Thanks.” Yuuri smiled. 

Victor hesitated briefly. The sight of Yuuri’s upturned face made him want to kiss him. But he was also still trying to keep Chris’ words in mind. So he compromised, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the forehead before releasing his hand and heading back towards the guest room. 

Yuuri watched him go and then slid onto the stool, leaning over the counter towards Chris and Johannes. “What did he say?” 

“Apparently,” Chris said with a wry smile. “You made out like teenagers near a fire exit.” 

“What?” Yuuri hissed, glancing at Johannes, but the stoic man just nodded. “Was that it? We just... started making out?” 

Chris put his knife down. “No, apparently he caught you drinking with some other guy at the bar and got jealous about it. Which, apparently, was a turn on for you?” Chris furrowed his brows, not quite clear on this part of the story. “Then you were, and I quote ‘sexy dancing.’  _ Then _ you made out like teenagers near the fire exit, and confessed your mutual interest in one another. Then one of the security guards caught you and told you to get a room. That’s when you came back to the table and we all went home.” 

Yuuri listened intently, trying to bring up some recollection of the events as Chris described them, but there was just... nothing there. He nodded and then his brows furrowed a little bit further. “Hey, Chris?” 

“Hm?” Chris was now sliding the chopped up fruit into a bowl. 

“Did... did Victor say that he was... in  _ love _ with me? I mean, before. Like just now?” 

Chris feigned an innocent expression. “Hm?” 

“When I was in the hallway, Victor said-” 

“Yuuri! I found them,” Victor was smiling as he emerged from the hallway, holding up Yuuri’s glasses. He grinned and slid them onto his face as he walked towards the kitchen. “How do I look?” 

Yuuri flushed and laughed. “Like a nerd.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s impossible,” Victor replied. “I must look very suave and intelligent.” 

“No, Yuuri’s right,” Chris said. “You look like a nerd.” 

Victor scoffed, but he was smiling as he slid the glasses off his face and onto Yuuri’s. “They probably look better on you anyway.” 

“Weren’t you wearing glasses in one of your author photos?” Yuuri asked, adjusting the frames on his face. “Yeah, you were. The photo on the flap of  _ Blue Roses.  _ You’re wearing wire frames.” 

Victor blinked and then chuckled softly, actually looking a little embarrassed. “They were just frames. I thought they gave me an intelligent aesthetic. How do you remember something like that?” 

Yuuri flushed a little, but crossed his arms defensively. “Well you  _ are _ my favorite author. Of course I remember your photos.” 

Victor smiled softly. “I guess that’s true. I forget that you’ve liked me for so long. We’ve never really talked about how you feel about my books.” 

Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck. “Well... yeah, it’s kind of embarrassing to talk about it to your face.” 

“Why?” Victor asked innocently. 

Yuuri’s eyes cut away and his expression became a little irritated. “It just is. Besides... how I liked you before and how I like you now are different.” 

Victor made a soft sound of excitement, touching his chest as if he was deeply moved. “Yuuri...” 

“Ok, that’s enough,” Chris interjected. “I’m going to lose all of my appetite watching you two.” Despite his words he was smiling slyly, obviously pleased. “Why don’t you two set the table so we can sit down and eat breakfast?” 

Yuuri and Victor didn’t argue, turning away from one another with coy smiles. Soon they were all sitting down together, enjoying a hearty meal of eggs, sausage, fruit salad and toast aimed at combatting their lingering hangovers. Afterwards Yuuri cleaned the kitchen and Victor went to take a shower, while Chris disappeared into his office and Johannes went upstairs to start the laundry. 

When the kitchen was clean, Yuuri found himself alone with his thoughts, which wasn’t always a good thing. He decided that working might help him focus, so he took his laptop, a cup of coffee, and one of the throw blankets from the couch out onto the swing on Chris’ porch. Makkachin joined him, curling up in a sunny spot near the stairs.

Even though it was a beautiful day, there was a sharp, pervasive chill in the air. But beneath his blanket, Yuuri didn’t mind. In fact it seemed to help clear his head a little. Even so he spent more time staring blankly at his screen than getting any writing done. 

“So here you are.” 

Yuuri looked up at the sound of Victor’s voice, and he swallowed at the sight of him standing in the doorway. Freshly bathed, a towel around his shoulders to catch the drips from his still-damp hair. “You’ll catch a cold if you come out here like that.” 

Victor’s expression shifted to something like disappointment for a moment, but then he stepped out onto the porch. “Then you’ll just have to keep me warm.” He sat down on the swing, folding the blanket around himself as he slid in close to Yuuri’s side, pulling his bare feet up into the blanket cocoon. 

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat when Victor nestled his head against his shoulder. He could feel it’s dampness through the fabric of his t-shirt. For a few long moments they sat like that, Yuuri’s heart hammering in his chest as Victor casually leaned against him. Then Yuuri shut his laptop and set it aside. 

Victor tipped his head up to look at Yuuri. “You don’t have to stop working.” 

Yuuri shook his head. “No, I wasn’t getting anything done anyway.” 

They sat in silence again, Victor still peering at Yuuri as Yuuri stared out over the yard. 

“You’re very tense,” Victor said finally. “Do... do I make you feel that uncomfortable?” 

Yuuri swallowed and took a deep breath. “It’s not you. It’s just... I’m not used to this kind of thing.” 

“What kind of thing?” 

“Being... being close to someone.” Yuuri hazarded a glance at Victor, and as soon as their eyes met he found he couldn’t look away again. 

Victor furrowed his brows and then sat back a little. “Oh. I guess that it’s true then about Asian people being more reserved about physical affection?” 

Yuuri chuckled thinly. “Well, it’s not  _ wrong _ , but that’s not really what I meant. I mean, I’ve lived and studied in the US long enough that I’m used to Western customs.” 

“Europeans are even more open with their affection than Americans,” Victor said a little airily, almost like he was offended. 

Yuuri couldn’t help a smirk of amusement. Victor’s behavior was sometimes so unexpectedly childish. Which was, just as unexpectedly, charming. “Yeah. I’m starting to realize that.” 

“Do you not like it?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri shook his head. “I don’t mind. But like I said that’s not really what I meant. It’s more that I’m just not that used to being close to people at all. I don’t have a lot of close friends and I’ve never really had strong feelings for someone.” 

“Are you a virgin?” Victor asked suddenly. 

Yuuri felt a chill of mixed embarrassment and offense go through him. “What? I’m 26 years old, why would you ask that?” His face was beet red as he glared at Victor. 

“It’s ok if you are-” Victor started. 

“I’m not!” 

“Ok.” They stared at each other for a moment. “But it’s ok if-” 

“Victor!” Yuuri cut him off. “That’s not what I meant! What does that even have to do with anything right now?” 

Victor gave Yuuri an innocent look. “Well. I assumed we would be having sex soon. Maybe tonight or if not, then in the next couple of days.” 

Yuuri balked. “What? We... we... we just... we  _ just _ found out we’re even interested in each other. We’re... not even... dating or... boyfriends or anything.” 

Victor furrowed his brows and frowned a little, clearly confused. “You want to be my boyfriend?” 

Yuuri’s face somehow grew even redder and he became even more flustered. “N-no! No that’s not-” 

“So you  _ don’t _ want to be my boyfriend?” Victor looked even more confused and now also a little hurt. 

Yuuri gawked at him. “N... no... that’s... It’s not that I don’t want that... I mean... But we just met.” 

“But you have liked me for a long time, and I am so enamored of you, Yuuri. I really, really want this with you.” Under the blanket Victor’s hand found Yuuri’s, twining their fingers together. 

“We... hardly know each other,” Yuuri said, but his voice was a weak croak. His mouth and throat had both gone dry. 

Victor shook his head. “That’s not true. You have read all of my novels, and I have read yours. We have spent the last two weeks together. Working together, talking, living together, breathing each other, feeding each other.” His expression was becoming more and more intense. “I know it’s not just me who feels it. There is a connection between us. It’s so much more important than the mundane ‘knowing’ you’re talking about. All of that can come in time. Isn’t it part of what makes it fun? Learning about each other?” 

Yuuri’s heart was beating like mad as Victor’s words poured into him. He hadn’t been crazy. Victor felt it, too. He felt it and he wanted it. With him. With  _ him.  _

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” Victor said, leaning into Yuuri, his fingers tightening around his. 

“I... I do,” Yuuri gasped. “I do feel it. I just... It’s... it’s kind of frightening.” 

Victor smiled, his eyes were bright, almost feverish. “Shouldn’t it be?” 

Yuuri couldn’t really argue with that. Falling love, or whatever this was, surely should be frightening. He nodded, licking his lips, trying to chase the dryness of his mouth away. 

“I want this with you so badly,” Victor said, the earnestness in his voice made Yuuri’s head swim. “Say you want it, too.” 

Yuuri closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths. It was chaos inside of him. Elation, excitement, fear, anxiety. All of them were clamoring over one another, fighting for dominance. He could feel Victor’s hand in his, hot and squeezing so tightly. He could smell him, his foreign soap, his innate sweetness. 

“Yuuri...” Victor breathed his name like a plea. 

It completely undid him. “I want it,” Yuuri gasped. “Whatever it is. I want it.” Yuuri’s eyes opened, a look of desperate longing on his face. “I want to be so close to you, Victor. Closer than I’ve ever wanted to be to anyone.” 

The look of relief that washed over Victor’s face made Yuuri’s heart hurt. They didn’t say anything else, but they reached for one another, Yuuri’s fingers clutching at Victor’s damp, cold hair; Victor’s hand pressing against Yuuri’s back, pulling him as close as he could in the awkward space of the porch swing. 

They kissed. It was desperate, like they were both trying to find something. Yuuri knew he’d never been kissed like that. Even though he didn’t remember the night before, he knew it hadn’t been like this. Their hands remained clasped under the blanket even as they clutched at one another. Victor’s lips were so soft, so warm. Yuuri trembled slightly beneath Victor’s hand. When their lips finally parted their foreheads came to rest together. They panted softly. 

“Come to St. Peterburg with me.” The words were whispered, barely audible. 

“What?” Yuuri sat back enough to look into Victor’s eyes. 

“When this is over, I mean. When I have to go back or Chris kicks us out. Come with me. We can still work on your manuscript. I know lots of people in the publishing world.” He touched Yuuri’s cheek. “Come with me,” he repeated, his voice that soft whisper again. 

Yuuri stared. Breathless and aching with foreign, intense emotions. He finally nodded. “Ok.” 

Victor blinked, surprised by Yuuri’s immediate acquiescence. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, though he felt a little like his voice belonged to a stranger. “I... I have no reason to say no. Nowhere else I have to be. No one else I want to be with more.” 

He knew he was making what could possibly be one of the biggest decisions of his life on a whim. In a moment driven by irrational emotions. He knew this was all moving way too fast. Not just Victor, but his book, achieving his dream, everything. It was so unlike him, and yet in that moment he couldn’t think of any reason he should say no. There was nothing waiting for him back in Japan. He had no idea if he even wanted to continue his studies in the US. He’d come on this trip to try to find some meaning in his life, some direction. Why shouldn’t he chase it down with everything he had? 

The smile that lit Victor’s face exuded a joy that was palpable. He cupped Yuuri’s cheek. “Meeting you has made me so happy. You... you are my muse.” 

Yuuri wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that statement, but also didn’t want to question it. He was amazed that meeting him could make anyone, especially Victor Nikiforov, feel anything. 

He closed his eyes, and tilted his chin up, inviting Victor to kiss him again, which he did, pulling their faces together with a soft sigh. 

* * *

 

**_180 Words for Snow_ **

**_Chapter 6_ **

_ We were buried alive in the silence. Nothing stirred. The air was so cold I could see my breath.  _

_ It had been three days since the blizzard blocked the tracks. But in our private tomb made of blankets Yukito and I were warm. _

_ There were no towns nearby. No way for anyone to reach us. We were nowhere, just the train and the blizzard. And here in our berth it was just the two of us, Yukito and I, sharing body heat, naked, touching.  _

_ He lifted his head. “How long do you think it will be like this?”  _

_ I looked at him, shifting further inside the blankets. “Until the blizzard stops?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. It can’t be that much longer. Three days is already a long time.” My hand flattened against his back, pulling him closer. “Are you anxious?” _

_ Yukito shook his head. “No. In a way... I don’t want it to ever end.” _

_ I chuckled. “And then what? We freeze to death? Starve to death? What about your destination?”  _

_ He touched my face. His fingertips were colder than the air. “Maybe I don’t really want to get to where I’m going.”  _

_ I studied his face. It was so pale. The whole world was fading into whiteness. Even Yukito.  _

_ “I don’t really want to get to where I’m going either,” I murmured, feeling the truth of my words in my bones.  _

_ His hand caressed my face. “Sasha,” he breathed my name and then pushed me onto my back.  _

* * *

 

“Why are you peeking through the curtains?” Johannes asked as he came down the stairs, spying his boyfriend at one of the windows that looked onto the porch. 

“I’m just watching this love story I’ve orchestrated unfold. It’s very satisfying,” Chris said with a tinge of smug glee in his voice.  

Johannes came to stand next to him, pulling the curtain back enough to look out as well. “Hmm.” 

Chris stood back and put his hands on his hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Johannes shrugged, letting the curtain fall shut. “Nothing. I’m just observing.” He shooed Chris away from the window. “Now stop spying.” 

“I’m not spying. I’m observing. They’re just like two puppies. It’s adorable.”  

“Puppy love only lasts for so long,” Johannes said in a tone that was almost sing-song.  

Chris huffed. “Party pooper.” He followed Johannes over to the couches and flopped down next to his boyfriend. “You need to have more faith in the power of romance. Don’t be so straight laced all the time. After all,” he cooed, reaching over to scratch Johannes’ chin, “you fell in love with me, didn’t you?”   

“Well, you will remember that I ran away from you for a very long time first. It was only out of utter exhaustion from your relentless pursuit that I finally let you catch me.” 

Chris rolled his eyes. “Very funny.” 

Johannes chuckled, “Awww,  _ meine schatz. _ You know I’m only teasing you. I’m thankful every day that you finally caught me. It’s just that... Victor and Yuuri are different than we were.” He frowned. “They’re both so... lonely and hungry.” 

“Then isn’t it perfect for them to be together?” Chris said, mildly exasperated. 

Johannes made a thoughtful sound.

Chris frowned. “They’re grown men, Johannes. They’re perfectly capable of making their own decisions about one another. Besides, you completely encouraged this when you told Yuuri about Victor’s feelings.” He smirked. “Very sly.”  

Johannes laughed. “I don’t know that it was sly. It seemed so obvious. But Yuuri is especially obtuse. Maybe I did want to encourage him a little. It’s nice to feel you can be bold.” 

Chris carded his fingers through Johannes hair. “So you are a romantic after all.” 

Johannes smiled, his expression soft and warm as he looked at Chris. “Well. Like you said, I did fall in love with you after all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. A Sleep and A Forgetting - The title of two different works. The original was a novella written by William Dean Howells first published in 1907. It was the story of a psychologist trying to solve the mystery of a young woman's peculiar memory lapses. The second was a short story by Orson Scott Card, published in 1979. Card's story is about trying to restore the memories of people who have awakened from a drug-induced suspended animation.


	7. Great Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! It has been a very long time. How are you doing? I'm doing great, except that I'm super tired. You may be wondering why it's taken me 3 months to update this story. The first reason is that during December and January I was working on my submission for The Big Bang!!! On Ice, which will finally be posted this Friday (Feb 23, 2018)! And then in January and February I was moving, which was a whole involved process of finding a new place to live and then packing up all my crap and then actually moving and then unpacking all my crap (I'm still working on this part). So, yeah, I've been really busy both at home and also at work and I'm tired and sore like 24/7. lol But I did finally manage to complete a new chapter, so I'm glad that I can finally share it with you guys. =3= 
> 
> Thank you for being patient! And please keep your eyes open for my Big Bang!!! On Ice submission at the end of the week! 
> 
> **Follow me on tumblr and twitter!**  
> [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com/)  
> [@martymuses](https://twitter.com/martymuses)

_ On Love _

_ Part 2: Ludos _

_ The house was large. One of those multi-story Victorians Riki had seen pictures of in American magazines. This one had peeling paint and a sagging porch. The windows were blacked out or boarded up. Noise was pushing out from inside. Bursting at the seams.  _

_ They paused on the sidewalk. Ricky seemed different. His hair wasn’t combed back in its usual perfection. His collar was open.  _

_ “Is this where you wanted to take me?” Riki asked, looking at the house.  _

_ “Yeah.”  _

_ His eyes moved over the sagging facade. “Why?”  _

_ Ricky laughed and grabbed at Riki’s hand. “You’re so suspicious. C’mon.” _

_ Riki let him pull him up the walk. Their steps sounded dull on the peeling stairs. Ricky knocked on the door. There were metal bars over it. A little panel slid back and Ricky leaned in, murmuring something into the hole.  _

_ The panel slid shut and the door opened, swinging inward. A black man pushed the bars open, motioning them inside.  _

_ Riki blinked at him owlishly, trying to pull his hand out of Ricky’s. Ricky’s fingers tightened.   _

_ Inside music was playing. Loud music with a good beat. Smoke made the air thick. The smell made Riki’s head swim. Ricky pulled him down the hallway towards the music. The hall emptied into a large room. There was no furniture, just people dancing to the music.  _

_ It took Riki a moment to realize why the scene looked strange. Almost all of them were men.  _

_ “What is this place?” Riki turned his head to look at Ricky. That sense of differentness about him was growing stronger.  _

_ “It’s a private club.” Ricky fished in his front pocket.  _

_ “Why did you bring me here?”  _

_ The question made Ricky look up. His face was unusually tense. There was something in his eyes Riki wasn’t used to seeing: uncertainty. Fear. It was thrilling. _

_ Ricky held up his hand. He was holding two marijuana cigarettes between his fingers. He angled one towards Ricky. “I wanted to dance with you.”  _

* * *

__

The past few days Yuuri hadn’t been able to get much writing done. He’d been too emotionally strung out, moving between giddy and anxious with the regularity of a pendulum. Every time he saw Victor his heart started beating fast and his stomach erupted into flutters. It left him feeling exhausted and completely unable to concentrate on anything. 

Not that Victor seemed to be trying to make it easy on him. If he wasn’t cuddling up to him nearly every chance he got, then he was staring at him with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. 

“Don’t you have writing to do?” Yuuri said with a chuckle as he looked up from his spot on the floor. 

Victor was stretched out on the couch, one bare foot dangling over the edge. Yuuri had felt his eyes on him for the better part of the last five minutes. 

“I am writing. See?” Victor waved his hand at his laptop, which was propped up on pillow on Victor’s stomach. 

“Victor. You’ve been staring at me this whole time. I haven’t heard any of your keys move in at least half an hour.” 

“Sounds like the pot calling the kettle black,” Victor said with a grin. 

Yuuri balked. “What?” 

“It’s an English idiom. It means-” 

“I know what it means!” Yuuri said with a laugh. “I just meant... ugh. Never mind.” With a sigh he shut his laptop. “You’re right. I’m not getting any writing done either.” He set the laptop aside before leaning on the coffee table, chin in hand. He looked at Victor for a moment and then canted his head to one side. “What’s your new book about anyway? We’ve never talked about it.” 

A faint color appeared on Victor’s cheeks. “Oh. Well...” His eyes moved to his screen. “It’s about... an engineer and an anthropologist who meet on a train and have a sort of magnetic attraction.” 

Yuuri stared at Victor, who was pointedly not looking back at him. After a prolonged moment Yuuri spoke again, “And?” 

Victor’s eyes cut towards him. “And what?” 

“And then what happens? Some kind of conflict, obviously. You’re not just going to write a story about two people meeting and then flirting for 400 pages and living happily ever after.” 

Victor scratched the tip of his nose. His cheeks looked a little redder. “Well, no. Of course not. It’s just... a little hard to explain.” 

“One of them turns out to be serial killer?” 

Victor looked aghast. “I would never write something so terrible! Sounds more like something  _ you _ would write.” 

Yuuri grinned. He’d never seen Victor like this. It was almost like he was embarrassed to talk about his writing. It was strangely exciting to feel like he was the one doing the flustering for once. “Sooo, then what’s it about?” 

Victor spluttered a little, stalling for a moment before finally hedging again. “It’s hard to explain.” 

“You already said that. Are you saying I won’t be able to grasp your literary vision?” 

Victor’s brows drew together. “No. It’s just... Maybe you won’t like it.” His eyes cut towards Yuuri and then away again. 

Yuuri found the statement preposterous. “Victor, I’m practically your biggest fan. Of course I’m going to like it. What wouldn’t I like?” 

“Well, it’s just... It’s a little embarrassing, because... you... inspired me to write it.” 

Yuuri sat up straighter. His heart was beating a little faster. “I did?” 

“Yes, of course. What you said to Chris when you first met him on the train. It really affected me. When Chris told me about meeting you and how much you loved my writing and that you had faith I would continue,” Victor’s expression softened, “it meant so much to me. I felt like I wanted to write something. For you.”

Yuuri’s mouth fell open and he gaped at Victor. “Your new novel is... for  _ me? _ ” 

Victor’s face got noticeably redder. “Well, obviously I didn’t know you at the time. Only what Chris had told me. But I thought about you: on a train, far from home, on a journey. And suddenly I wanted to write this book when I hadn’t been able to write anything for months. So, yes. It’s for you and inspired by you and also even a little bit about you. I told you, didn’t I? You are my muse.” 

Yuuri blinked, his eyes wide. Then after a moment he made a soft croaking sound and pushed his hands behind his glasses, covering his face. 

Alarmed, Victor sat up, shutting his laptop with one hand. “Yuuri? What’s wrong?” He got up, hurriedly going to crouch at his side. “I’m sorry. Are you upset about it?” 

Yuuri shook his head back and forth quickly, but didn’t say anything. His glasses slid down his nose and then onto the table with a soft clack. 

“Are you sure?” Victor asked, worry in his voice. He tentatively reached out to put a hand on Yuuri’s back. 

“Yes,” Yuuri said, his voice muffled between his fingers. “I’m just... embarrassed, but also... happy.” He swallowed and then slowly pulled his hands down, eyes peeking out over the tops of his fingers. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy before.” 

Victor blinked and then laughed in relief., dropping down to sit fully on the floor.  He wrapped his arms around Yuuri, squeezing him. “Oh good, I’m so glad. I was so worried for a moment.” 

Yuuri shook his head again, still feeling embarrassed by Victor’s words. He pulled his hands away from his face, but only so that he could press them against Victor’s shoulder. “No, I just... I don’t know what I did to deserve this. Any of this. It makes me so happy, but also scared.” 

Victor frowned and touched his lips to Yuuri’s hair. “Why?” 

“Because it all happened so fast. Meeting Chris, meeting you, getting your support for my book. And then... this. Us. And now...” He wrapped his arms around Victor. “I’m scared it could all come undone just as fast.” 

Victor smiled softly and squeezed Yuuri again. “You’re going to finish your book, and we’re going to get it published. And I’m not going anywhere. I need you. You’re my muse.”

Yuuri nodded, taking a deep breath, wanting to take comfort in Victor’s words. But there was something nagging at him, something that still made him feel unsettled. But Yuuri was used to having to deal with his irrational anxiety, so he pushed it away. He lifted his head, his eyes bright as he looked at Victor. 

Victor gently thumbed his cheek and then drew him into a soft kiss. Yuuri’s heart started beating faster again, his arms tightening around Victor as they both shifted towards one another. Before he knew it his fingers were tangled in Victor’s fine hair and he was rising onto his knees, poised to crawl into Victor’s lap. 

Victor chuckled and gently reached for Yuuri’s hands, pulling them out of his hair. “Wait, wait. Let’s take this somewhere more private. I’m sure Chris and Johannes are tired of walking in on us making out.” 

Yuuri swallowed, a nervous, hard flutter in his chest, almost like it was beating out of normal time. He’d pointedly been avoiding being alone with Victor in private except to sleep. He could still hear Victor’s self-assured words about the inevitability of their having sex. And while he wasn’t opposed to having sex in general, there was some part of him that still felt like it was too soon. Or maybe it was just that he knew once they slept together it was all over for him. He was going to fall hopelessly, completely in love with Victor. Right now he could still tell himself this was just a casual thing. That it would be fine when it ended. He was only in Europe until he figured things out anyway. 

But Yuuri also knew that it was already too late. He was going to be crushed when this was all over no matter what. So what was the harm in letting things just take their course?  

He huffed softly against Victor’s lips and then sat back, nodding. “Yeah. Good idea.” 

Victor’s eyebrows rose, a little surprised by Yuuri’s response, and then a smile spread across his face. “Ok.” 

Like two giddy teenagers they stood and walked hand in hand down the hallway. 

Victor opened the door, pulling Yuuri inside, and Yuuri kicked it shut again as he was pulled back into Victor’s arms. They kissed with smiling lips, tripping over one another as they made their way to the twin beds they’d pushed together. Victor fell back onto the mattress, pulling Yuuri down on top of him. His long, slender hands pushed under his shirt, fingertips pressing up the length of Yuuri’s back along his spine. 

Yuuri shivered, nipped at Victor’s lips and then deftly rolled them both over, enjoying the weight of Victor’s larger body pressing down on him. He squeezed his legs against Victor’s and then worked them apart to get the other man between them, fingers tangling in his hair again as he pulled him into a deep kiss. 

And then they were rolling back the other way. Yuuri’s lips parted from Victor’s with a little gasp as he raised his head. He looked down at him with a flushed face, lips parted as he panted softly. How did Victor’s legs end up around his waist? 

Furrowing his brows, Yuuri arched his back, rolling his hips downward as he pressed his lips to Victor’s again and then grabbed the front of his shirt before trying to roll them back the other way. Only this time Victor didn’t budge and Yuuri, trapped between Victor’s legs, had no leverage to force the issue. 

He felt Victor’s lips pull away from his as the other man flopped back against the pillows. “What is happening here?” Victor asked, breathless. 

Yuuri lifted his head again, looking down at Victor. “I don’t know. I... assumed that... missionary would be easiest?” 

“Yes, I agree.” 

Yuuri stared at Victor for a moment. “Right.” He tried to roll over again, but Victor still didn’t budge.

Victor pushed up on his elbows, his feet planting on the bed, legs spread around Yuuri’s hips. “Why do you keep trying to roll over? Do you want me to ride you instead?” 

Yuuri was confused. “Ride... _ me? _ ” Yuuri looked at Victor blankly for a prolonged moment, turned bright red, and started laughing. 

A look of bewilderment came over Victor’s face. “I don’t know if this is meant to be sexy, but... it’s not working for me.” 

“N-no... no, I know,” Yuuri said between laughter. “It’s just... I just... I just realized that  _ you  _ thought... and that  _ I _ thought...” His head dipped, forehead resting on Victor’s shoulder. It took him a moment to compose himself, his embarrassed, almost nervous laughter quieting so he could take a deep breath. When he looked up his expression was shy, almost sheepish. “We were both trying to be... on the bottom.” Another snort of compulsive laughter came out before he continued. 

Victor blinked and then his eyes widened and he began to laugh as well. “Oh, is that what was happening? I was wondering why you kept trying to get me on top of you.” 

“Well of course I wasn’t going to think that you’d-” Yuuri turned even redder, cutting himself off part way.

Victor arched an eyebrow. “What? Want you to have your way with me?” 

Yuuri’s embarrassment was almost more than he could bear. He lowered his eyes. “I just assumed... I mean... You’re bigger and older and probably a lot more experienced than I am. It just seemed obvious that you’d take the lead. So to speak.” 

“I thought you said you weren’t a virgin.” 

Yuuri groaned. “I’m  _ not. _ But that doesn’t mean that I’ve had a  _ lot _ of experience either.” He fidgeted a little, sitting back further. “I don’t even know if... if it would be good for you if I was on top. I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed after our first time.” 

Victor pushed up further onto his hands, sitting up with Yuuri still kneeling in between his legs. He smiled softly and gently stroked the backs of his knuckles against Yuuri’s cheek. “I want to be with you. It will be good for me no matter what.” 

Yuuri’s eyes fluttered at the touch and his heartbeat picked up again. He leaned into the touch automatically. “Is it what you prefer? Being... uh... the receiver?” 

Victor smiled, half at the question and half at the almost dreamy look on Yuuri’s face as he stroked his cheek. “I don’t really have a preference. I like both. I like sex. So whatever you are comfortable with is fine. I just didn’t want to assume that you would be alright with bottoming - regardless of age or height difference.” He shrugged and then lightly stroked down the side of his neck. “So. What do you prefer? I’m fine with anything.” 

Yuuri swallowed and opened his mouth only to pause. His brows furrowed and he turned his head. “Do you hear that?” 

“Hm?” Victor canted his head, listening. “It’s music. Probably coming from Chris’ office. It’s right next door, after all.” 

Yuuri groaned and his head fell forward onto Victor’s shoulder again. “Oh God. That means he can hear us.” 

“It is likely.” He stroked his fingers up and down the back of Yuuri’s neck. 

Yuuri sighed. “I’m sorry, Victor. I... I don’t think I can do this anymore. Not right now.” 

Victor sighed as well, but then he chuckled. “The momentum has rather been lost, hasn’t it?” 

“I just wouldn’t be able to relax thinking about Chris overhearing us, and I don’t want our first time to be awkward or rushed.” 

Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri and then lay back, pulling him down onto the bed with him again. “Then let’s just cuddle. We can make out a little more.” 

Yuuri smiled, relieved and warmed by Victor’s understanding. He propped himself up on Victor’s chest, resting his chin on his forearms. “Will you tell me more about your new novel? I want to know more about the story that I inspired.” 

“Only if you tell me why you love  _ Stay Close to Me _ so much.” 

Yuuri groaned and hid his face. “Ugh. Not fair. That’s so embarrassing.” 

“Tit for tat,” Victor said in a sing-song voice. 

Yuuri sighed and rolled onto his side, his head still resting on Victor’s chest and shoulder. He was quiet for a long moment, trying to collect his thoughts on the subject. “I understand the yearning in it,” he said quietly at length. “I wasn’t really good at making friends when I was growing up. There were only a couple of kids from my ballet class that I connected with at all. Not that I was disliked or bullied or anything. I just... had a hard time relating to people. Yet at the same time I wanted that connection, that closeness that other people had. I thought when I got older and started dating that I’d find that person naturally, but I never did.” 

Yuuri was quiet for a moment, his hand resting over Victor’s heart as he gathered his thoughts, trying to put his feelings into words. 

“ _ Stay Close to Me _ was all about these two souls that had this connection across time and space. Across lives. The way you wrote about how that  _ felt _ , what it was like when they were together, what it was like when they were searching for one another, how heartbreaking it was when they lived a whole life and never found one another. It resonated with me so deeply at a time when I was so lonely and I felt so... broken, because I couldn’t make anyone fit into this hole I had inside of me. It made me feel like maybe that was ok. Maybe it was normal. Maybe I just hadn’t found the person who was meant to stay close to  _ me. _ Maybe I never would.” He pursed his lips, thinking back to his high school and early college days. “But it also gave me a sense of hope. Like, even if I never found them there could always be a next time. Like in the cosmic sense of everything, I wouldn’t  _ always _ be alone. And that made me feel like it was kind of ok to be alone for now.

“And I thought, ‘Wow, somebody else felt all of this, wrote all of this. They know exactly how I feel.’ And I felt way less lonely just knowing that. I worried less about there being something wrong with me, about whether or not people would like me. It sort of released me from some of the anxiety I felt about not being accepted, which was really what had held me back all along. It let me be more myself. I was able to make real friends, even if only a few.” 

He lifted his head to look up at Victor, a soft, sad smile on his lips, his cheeks red. “It was you who gave all that to me, even though you had no idea who I was. You made me feel normal and hopeful and like I wasn’t alone. You made me want to write. And now you’re right here beside me and it’s completely unbelievable.” 

Victor’s brows drew together and for a moment Yuuri thought he was going to cry, but then he just smiled, cupping his face. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about anything I’ve written. And now anything I tell you about the new book is going to seem very trite and embarrassing in comparison, so I simply can’t tell you about it right now.” 

Yuuri balked. “Victor!” he slapped his hand lightly against his chest. “That’s not fair! You made me say all that embarrassing stuff for nothing!” 

Victor laughed. “It’s not for nothing! I’m touched. I’m deeply moved by your love for  _ Stay Close to Me _ and how it’s connected us together all these years, even if I didn’t know it. Almost like you were my unknown muse even then.” He smiles softly at Yuuri, stroking his hair off his forehead. “That book was my own cry of loneliness I put out into the world as a young man. And you heard it. And here you are.” 

He stroked Yuuri’s cheek and took his chin in his fingers, drawing his face towards his. “So maybe, I wrote that book for you as well,” he murmured against Yuuri’s lips. 

Yuuri made a soft croaking sound and then completely melted onto Victor’s chest, hiding his face in his shoulder. “Victor! H-how could you say something so embarrassing? You said it so easily!” 

Victor blinked and then laughed. “Don’t you think so? Don’t you think it’s a little bit like fate that we’re together now?” 

“I can’t think like that,” Yuuri murmured, shaking his head. “It’s too much. My brain will overload.”   

Victor chuckled softly and stroked his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. “Alright. I’ll just think it for the both of us then. My Yuuri. My muse.” 

* * *

Victor woke the next morning with a start, pushing himself up in the bed and blearily reaching for his phone, which was ringing quite loudly. 

As soon as the ringing stopped he sighed in relief and flopped back, holding the phone to his ear. “Allo?” 

The angry tirade of Russian that came from the other end of the line made him wince and hold the phone a few inches away from his ear. He waited for it to calm down a little before cautiously bringing it back. 

“ _ Yes, I hear you-”  _ he began in Russian, but was cut off before he could continue. 

Next to him Yuuri stirred and lifted his head off the pillows, squinting at him. “Wha... what’s going on?”

Victor turned the phone away from his mouth. “It’s just a phone call.” 

Yuuri’s brows furrowed and he looked around. “What time is it?”

“Not sure,” Victor shrugged and then held the phone back to his mouth.  _ “Yakov, please stop yelling. I just woke up.”  _

_ “It’s eight o’clock in the morning! Why should you still be in bed? The publisher is hounding me day and night about your work and then you suddenly decide to go on vacation?! It’s been three weeks! You can’t just do whatever you want without any consequences!”  _

Yuuri frowned. “Who’s that? They sound really angry.” 

“It’s just my agent. He’s always like this,” Victor said, smiling at Yuuri ruefully. 

“ _ Victor! Are you even listening to me?! Who are you talking to? Who’s there with you in bed? I can’t believe this! First you go on vacation now you’re sleeping around while you’re supposed to be working!”  _

Victor sighed, pouting at the phone. “ _ I’m not on vacation. I’ve been working this whole time. I have the first 100 pages of a new novel completed. And I’m not sleeping around. I am in bed with my muse.”  _

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few moments and then. “ _ What are you talking about?”  _

Victor sighed, exasperated, and then rolled onto his side, smiling at Yuuri as he pushed some of his sleep-mussed hair out of his eyes. Yuuri smiled back at him sleepily, his cheeks coloring a little. 

_ “I sent you that email before I left. Didn’t you read any of it? I’m at Chris Giacometti’s. I’ve been writing my new novel. And I met the most beautiful young man. He’s my muse.”  _

There was a loud sigh through the phone.  _ “I thought you were drunk when I read that email.”  _

_ “How offensive.”  _

_ “Vitya. Enough of your antics. You have to come back to Russia. We have a meeting with the publishing house in two days. You need to provide them some solid proof that you’ve made progress on a new project. Your contract renewal is coming up and you’re not in a very strong position.”  _

Victor sighed.  _ “Can’t you just go for me? They’re not going to drop me. I’m Victor Nikiforov.”  _

_ “You haven’t written anything in almost two years!”  _

_ “Lots of authors don’t publish frequently!”  _ Victor said defensively. 

_ “Not you. You’ve set yourself up with unattainable expectations. Besides those writers at least have more to show when they are between publications than a manuscript that’s been restarted more than 50 times.”    _

Victor sat up, feeling restless in his aggravation. He pushed his fingers through his pale hair. Yuuri looked up at him, frowning in concern. He couldn’t understand the conversation, but it was obvious it was making Victor agitated. 

_ “Alright. Alright. I’ll come back. I’ll show them what I’ve been working on. Will that satisfy you?”  _

_ “This is your career, Vitya. It’s not about satisfying me.”  _

There was a brief, but tense silence. 

_ “I’ll call you when I’m back in Russia. Email me the details for the meeting. I’ll be there.”  _

_ “I’ll pick you up.”  _

_ “Fine.”  _ Victor hung up the phone with an aggressive tap of his thumb and then sat there, staring tersely at the far wall. 

Yuuri sat up beside him, reaching out to gently touch his bare shoulder. “Is everything ok?” 

Victor jerked a little, startled as he was drawn out of his thoughts. He smiled at Yuuri faintly. “More or less.” 

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri’s eyes studied his face. 

“I have to go back to Russia. Immediately.” 

Yuuri swallowed, his eyes widening a little. “Oh. Why? Did something happen? Is everything ok?” 

Victor sighed and shook his head. “Everything’s fine. It’s not an emergency or anything like that. But I have a meeting with my publisher in a couple of days and Yakov - my agent - insists that I’m there in person. Something about contract negotiations.” 

“Oh, I see.” He smiled faintly. “Well, you’ve been working on your new book, so they should be pleased, right?” 

Victor smiled back. “Right.” He looked at Yuuri, still rumpled from sleep in a plain t-shirt, which was riding up above the band of his sweatpants. He wrapped his arms around him and squeezed. “You are so adorable and delicious.” 

“Victor!” Yuuri laughed, but let himself be embraced. 

“It’s true! Yuuri is so cute.” 

Yuuri chuckled, leaning against Victor for a moment and then he slowly sat back. “So... um... when exactly do you think you’ll leave?” 

Victor sighed. “I’ll have to look at the plane tickets, but probably tonight or tomorrow, depending on what I can manage.” 

A stricken look passed over Yuuri’s face. “Tonight? So soon?” 

Victor frowned softly and cupped Yuuri’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Yuuri.” He swallowed, hesitating before saying, “Do you still want to come to St. Petersburg?” 

Yuuri perked up wrapping his fingers around Victor’s wrist. “Yes! Yes, of course! I really want to. I really... really want to be there with you.” 

Victor felt a wave of relief and he smiled. “Good. I can get your ticket. Don’t worry about that.” 

Yuuri balked a little. “Oh. Well... I mean I can’t go with you  _ now. _ I wasn’t planning to go to Russia on this trip so I don’t even know if I have all of the proper paperwork or anything. I’ll have to go to the consulate and try to figure it all out.” 

“We should go today. Things will go more smoothly if I’m there to help you.” Victor frowned. “I wish you’d said something earlier.” 

Yuuri lowered his eyes. “I should have. I just... I wasn’t thinking about the logistics of things. I was just...” he looked back at Victor, “I was just caught up in all of this.” 

Victor’s eyes hooded and he stroked Yuuri’s cheek. “It’s alright. I’m famous so it should mean I have some ability to pull strings for a friend. Or at least enough money to bribe someone to push your visa through faster.” 

“Victor!” Yuuri laughed, shaking his head. “You’re awful. Don’t bribe anyone.” 

Victor gave Yuuri an innocent look. “That’s how you get things done.” 

“No, that’s how you get arrested.” 

Victor made a non-committal grunting sound and then sighed, flopping back into the bed. He tugged Yuuri down with him, cupping the back of his neck. “I’ll still buy your plane ticket,” he murmured against Yuuri’s lips. 

Yuuri swallowed around a lump in his throat. “You don’t have to. Staying with Chris has saved me a lot of money.” 

“I want to,” Victor wheedled.

Yuuri smirked and chuckled. “Ok, ok. I won’t argue.” 

“Good.” He kissed Yuuri’s lips smartly and then gave his back a pat. “Now, get dressed so we can go take care of all of this.” 

* * *

By noon Victor had already placed a call to the Russian Consulate, taken Yuuri to get a passport photo, booked his flight back to Russia, written the letter of invitation Yuuri required for his visa, and gotten them on a train to Bern. For a man who seemed content to laze around most of the day in pajama pants and oversized sweaters, Victor exhibited an almost manic ability to get things accomplished when needed to. 

In fact, it was all happening so fast that Yuuri felt a little shell shocked. Not for the first time in the past few weeks. 

The train ride to Bern was only a little more than an hour, but Yuuri couldn’t relax or shake the nagging sense of anxiety that hung around him. His knee bounced up and down as he looked out the window, watching the beautiful Swiss scenery go by. His stomach was in knots thinking that he was going to be making the return trip by himself. Victor wouldn’t be returning with him to Lucerne. He was taking a flight from Bern Airport later that evening. 

He wasn’t even enjoying his last moments with Victor. He was too preoccupied with his anxious, unhappy thoughts. 

“Yuuri?” Victor’s voice was soft as he reached over and gently placed a hand on Yuuri’s knee to still it. 

Yuuri jerked his head around to look at Victor. “Huh?” 

Victor’s brows were drawn together in concern. He was once again the dapper, put-together man in the camel hair coat. Just looking at him made Yuuri’s heart palpitate. 

“Are you alright? You’ve hardly said two words this whole ride. You seem very... nervous.” 

Yuuri swallowed. “Oh. I... I guess I just don’t handle change that well. It feels like a lot’s happened since this morning. And now you’re leaving so suddenly.” 

“I also arrived suddenly,” he said with a chuckle. 

Yuuri smiled wryly. “Yeah, I know. It’s kind of alarming how quickly you came in and out of my life.” 

Victor frowned and moved his hand from Yuuri’s knee to his hand. “I am not going out of your life. I know it’s not ideal that I have to leave, but we won’t be apart for long, right?” 

Yuuri nodded and swallowed. “Right.” 

Victor twisted his lips, not quite convinced by Yuuri’s response. “Unless... you would prefer to stay in Switzerland longer. I would understand if you do.” He stroked Yuuri’s cheek with his thumb. “It’s selfish of me to want you to come to Russia immediately. I know that. But I don’t mean to pull you away from your writing or spending more time with Chris.” 

Yuuri’s eyes widened a little. “No! No, that’s not it at all. I mean... I  _ am _ enjoying my time here and also with Chris. He’s been an amazing friend, especially since he hardly even knows me. But...” his fingers tightened with Victor’s, “I don’t want to let you slip away. I’m kind of forgettable, so I don’t want to give you the opportunity to forget about me.” 

Victor looked a little cross as he leaned in closer, stroking Yuuri’s chin. “You are not even remotely forgettable. No matter how long we were apart, I could never forget you.” 

As sweet as Victor’s words were and as much as they made Yuuri’s heart flutter, they did little to quell the anxious feeling inside of him. But he knew that at times like this there was very little that could. 

Their appointment at the Russian Consulate went more smoothly than Yuuri would have dared hope. The man they met with was attentive and pleasant and even met with them in a private office. This courtesy, Yuuri assumed, was because of Victor’s fame. He asked only a few questions, which Yuuri answered and Victor then expounded on in Russian. And after going through the required documents - Yuuri’s passport, the photograph, Victor’s letter of invitation, and the completed application form - he said that everything seemed to be in order and Yuuri’s visa should be approved within three to five business days. 

As they bid the man farewell, Yuuri heavily suspected that more than a handshake was exchanged between him and Victor. 

“I told you not to bribe anyone,” Yuuri hissed as they walked out of the doors of the consulate building. 

Victor laughed. “It’s not a bribe. It’s an... application fee.” 

Yuuri glared and then huffed a little. 

“Do you want your visa in three to five days or do you want it held up for weeks because it’s been pushed to the back of the processing line?” 

Yuuri grumbled. “Of course I want it to go through quickly.” 

Victor looped his arm through Yuuri’s. “Then don’t complain.” 

They walked together towards the tram stop arm in arm. Yuuri tried not to feel self conscious.  

It was late afternoon now and a sharp chill hung in the air. It almost felt more like winter than late autumn. Yuuri found it hard to believe that he’d already been in Switzerland for a month. And even harder to believe that he’d only known Victor for a few weeks. Things had moved so fast between them he’d hardly had time to stop and think about it, and now they would be parting soon. Once they rode the tram back to the train station Victor would be on his way to the airport with Makkachin and Yuuri would be headed back to Lucerne to await approval of his visa.  

Even if it was only for a few days, would things be the same when he saw Victor again? Or would rational thought have gotten a foothold in one or both of them by the time they were together again?  

Yuuri worried his lip as they walked together down the street. 

“We have time for a coffee,” Victor said, squeezing Yuuri’s arm. 

Yuuri glanced up at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to be late for your flight or for Makkachin to have to be alone with the porters at the station too long.” 

Victor smiled softly. “It’s fine. She’s used to traveling with me. I’d like to sit and enjoy your company a little while longer.” 

Yuuri flushed and returned Victor’s smile. “Alright. I’d like that.” 

They chose a cafe near the tram stop, each ordering a drink before finding a table in a corner near a window. The street outside was busy with afternoon foot traffic, people in brightly colored coats going about their business in the chilly city. 

Yuuri looked out the window, watching them go by. As much as he generally disliked having to socialize with a lot of people, he loved to watch them. To observe their manners and patterns. The way one woman walked in high heeled boots. The way another nervously adjusted and re-adjusted her scarf as she walked through the crowd. Two men talking with their hands as much as with the words they said. People were fascinating. 

As Yuuri watched the citizens of Bern, Victor watched Yuuri. He loved the intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes sparkled with intent as he gazed out at the street. His power of observation was probably one of the things that made Yuuri such a talented writer. It was a talent Victor lacked the patience for. 

Victor wrote largely from experience. There was a piece of him in every character he wrote, some more than others, but it was always there. The material for most of his writing was internal. His own feelings and experiences were reflected on every page he wrote. 

But Yuuri was different. He was able to absorb the people around him. He didn’t have to experience the things he wrote about. It was incredible to Victor that someone like Yuuri, who spoke so achingly of being alone, of never experiencing the love he longed for, could write so hauntingly about a love that was both barbaric and beautiful in his own novel. 

“It’s going to be called  _ 180 Words for Snow, _ ” Victor said, finally breaking the long, comfortable silence. 

Yuuri dragged his attention away from the window to look at Victor expectantly. “What’s that?” 

“The novel. My new novel. The one I’m writing for you.” He smiled softly. 

Yuuri blinked and then leaned in across the table, interested. “Oh? Is that a Russian phrase or something?” 

Victor chuckled and shook his head. “No. It was something I remembered from school that I always thought was amazing. Did you know that in Russia we have many different kinds of people? Native people. Not just Russians that look like me.” 

Yuuri couldn’t help but smirk. “Victor. There are no people that look like you in Russia or anywhere else in the world. “ 

Victor grinned and there was color in his cheeks. “Yuuri, you are such a good flatterer. It’s somewhat unexpected.” 

Yuuri smile wryly. “It’s not flattery. It’s true. You’re... definitely one of a kind.” As soon as he said the words he was embarrassed. “Anyway. You were saying? Different types of people in Russia?” 

Victor chuckled and nodded. “Yes. There are many different people - native people, tribal people - all across Russia. One such group is the Sami people. In Russian we call them _L_ _opari_. They live all across northern Scandinavia and the very northwest part of Russia. The part that touches Finland and Norway. They herd reindeer.” 

Yuuri raised an eyebrow with wry smile. “Ok...” 

“I promise it is connected,” Victor said, sipping his coffee. “I remember learning in school that the Sami people had 180 different words for snow. And I remember thinking how incredible that was, to be so affected by something, to have it be so integral to your life, that you could have 180 different words to articulate the subtlest differences of this one thing. It’s almost obsessive, don’t you think? But also somehow kind of magical. A thing so important to you, that you are so intimate with, that you could give it so many names. All different, but all the same. No matter what you call it, it’s always snow.” 

He was looking at Yuuri, an intensity to his blue eyes that Yuuri was not yet familiar with. He realized that he might be seeing the writer he so admired for the very first time since they’d met.  

“That’s the feeling I wanted to capture with this story. The magic of a particular kind of intimacy. Something immediate, permeating, inescapable. A force of nature. Like snow. Beautiful and pure, but also dangerous, cold enough to steal your life. Something that is complex enough for 180 words, despite how mundane it might seem or how much we take it for granted.” 

Yuuri sat back a little, eyeing Victor with an unreadable expression. His fingers slowly turned his coffee cup in his hands. “That’s what you thought of? What  _ I  _ inspired you to write about? Just from a story Chris told you?” His tone made it clear he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Victor twisted his lips, more color coming into his fair cheeks. “Weelll... it wasn’t  _ just _ a story. He also sent me your picture.” 

Yuuri sat back further. “My picture?” His mind turned back to the time he’d spent with Chris, seizing on a moment. “The one from outside the cafe? Next to the Reuss? He sent that to you?” 

Victor smiled sheepishly. “He did send that one to me, yes. But that’s not what I was referring to. Chris sent me your picture from the train. He sent me a picture of a beautiful boy sleeping, holding my book.” 

Yuuri shifted in his seat, an uncomfortable feeling making its way up his spine. “Chris... took a picture of me when I was asleep and sent it to you?” 

“Yes. And another when you were gazing out the window. The were both beautiful. I... was so drawn to you immediately. Not even knowing anything about you. I felt... like I knew you, like I  _ must _ know you. I made up a character about you, began to write a book about you. I thought about you for days before Chris convinced me to come to Switzerland.” 

Yuuri didn’t know what to say or how exactly he should feel about this revelation. On one hand it was unsettling and quite honestly bordering on violating. But on the other... the fact that Victor -  _ Victor Nikiforov _ \- had felt so intensely connected to him that he had been compelled to meet him, to write a novel based on a picture of him... it was... unbelievable, maybe even a little exciting.  

Yuuri was quiet for a few long moments as he looked down into his coffee cup, still turning it in his fingers. 

Victor watched him anxiously. He hadn’t been sure if or how he should tell Yuuri about all of this, but ever since he’d begun asking questions about the new novel he felt it was inevitable. How else was he going to explain it to him? One day he’d actually read the book and then he’d have  _ more  _ questions. If Yuuri was going to come stay with him in Russia, if they were going to carry on with one another, then he should know the whole story. 

“Are you upset?” Victor asked finally. 

Yuuri looked up from his coffee. He shook his head a little and swallowed. “I... I don’t know. The picture thing is a little... unsettling. But knowing Chris even the little bit that I do it honestly doesn’t seem out of character.” His lips pulled to one side. “If I’m upset with anyone over that it ought to be him, but it seems kind of pointless. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Chris would be very apologetic about.” 

Victor couldn’t help but smile wryly. “No. It doesn’t. He meant well. He was only trying to cheer me up. He didn’t know that... well... how it would affect me.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Yuuri raised an eyebrow. 

Victor chuckled. “No. He could very well have known.” 

Yuuri smirked faintly and looked out the window again. His feelings were still unsettled, but he couldn’t really pinpoint why. No matter how it had all transpired he was sitting in a cafe with Victor Nikiforov, who may - or may not - be his boyfriend, with whom he may soon be living in Russia - at least temporarily. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this moment. So what did it matter how he’d gotten there? 

“What’s he like? The character you based on me.” 

It was Victor’s turn to play with his cup. “He’s Japanese, obviously.” 

Yuuri chuckled, looking back at Victor. “Obviously. What’s his name?” 

“Yukito.” Victor glanced at Yuuri almost bashfully. 

Yuuri’s eyebrows rose and he chuckled. “You did a little research, I see. Sticking with the snow theme. What else?” 

“He’s... quiet, but also straightforward and sensual. He’s a bit mysterious, maybe with a dark past.” He chuckled. “He’s on a journey and meets another traveler who falls in love with him at first sight.” 

“A Russian?” Yuuri asked his smile becoming more wry. 

Victor’s cheeks colored a little more, his thumb rubbing the curve of his cup handle. “How did you know?” 

“An educated guess. Is he tall and handsome?” 

“Well, obviously. All Russians are.” 

Yuuri smirked and looked down at his coffee again. “Well, don’t tell me any more. I don’t want you to spoil it. I want to be able to enjoy it just as much as your other books when I get to read it.” 

“I have to finish writing it first and then I have to translate it before that will happen.” 

Yuuri looked up. “I’ll look forward to it.” He glanced at his phone on the table to check the time. “We should probably get going. I don’t want you to be late.” 

Victor took a deep breath. “Yes, you’re probably right. Though staying here with you sounds much nicer than going to the airport all alone.” 

“It also sounds nicer than going back to Lucerne by myself, but it is what it is. It’ll only be for a few days, right?” 

They put on their coats and walked back out onto the street. Victor offered Yuuri his arm once again. The short trip back to the train station was made in relative silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts and content to be in one another’s company. At the station Yuuri bought his ticket back to Lucerne and Victor collected his luggage and Makkachin in her kennel before heading out to the taxi stand. 

A sinking, unpleasant feeling had settled in Yuuri’s stomach as they stood on the sidewalk. He wasn’t sure what to say when Victor spoke first. 

“You know, I was a little afraid to tell you all of that back in the cafe. I thought it might scare you off, that you might not want to come to Russia anymore. But I also felt that I needed to tell you.” 

Yuuri swallowed as he looked up at Victor. In the pale autumn light of the fading afternoon he noticed for the first time the tiredness that lingered at the corners of Victor’s eyes. He looked unsettled and there was a pensiveness in his blue gaze. It was strange to think that  _ he _ could make this extraordinary man look so uncertain of himself. 

“I still want to come to Russia,” he said firmly. “I... I admit that I don’t really understand why you came here just because of me or what you saw in those pictures that made you feel... everything you described in the cafe. I mean... I can’t wrap my mind around how you see me. I don’t understand how you could be so inspired by me. You make me seem extraordinary, when the reality is that I’m so incredibly ordinary. It honestly makes me kind of nervous. I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

“I will not be disappointed. You don’t have to be nervous. I’m not expecting anything of you. I just want more time with you. I want to be inspired by you everyday,” Victor said, smiling softly. He slipped his gloved hands into Yuuri’s, squeezing them. 

Yuuri squeezed back, not knowing exactly what to say. “Call me or Chris when you get back home, ok?” 

“Yes.” 

“And I’ll call you as soon as I get notified about my visa.” 

“I’ll have my credit card waiting to book your flight.” 

They gazed at each other a moment longer and then embraced tightly. When they finally let one another go, Victor pulled his scarf off and slipped it around Yuuri’s neck. 

“I just gave this back to you,” Yuuri said. “It’s going to be cold in Russia. You should keep it with you.” He began to pull it off again, but Victor’s hands covered his, stopping him. 

“It’s always cold in Russia and I have many more scarves. It’s getting colder here, too. Give it back to me when I see you again.” 

After a moment, Yuuri relented and nodded. The cashmere was soft against his neck and jaw and he could already smell Victor’s scent coming off of it. He closed his eyes and pushed up on his tiptoes so that he could touch his forehead to the other man’s. Their breath mingled in the cold air. 

“Don’t miss your train,” Victor murmured softly. 

Yuuri took a deep breath and then pressed his lips to Victor’s, kissing him quickly, eyes squeezed tightly shut. After that he couldn’t linger any longer. His heart was beating too fast and his head was too full of thoughts he didn’t know how to begin to work through. 

Leaving Victor’s side was hard, but with each step the comfort of his usual solitude grew closer. His heart beat a little slower. His breath came a little easier. By the time Yuuri sat down by himself on the train back to Lucerne, alone for the first time in weeks, what he felt more than anything else was relief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Great Expectations - Once of Charles Dickens most famous novels, originally published in 1861 after being serialized in Dickens' own weekly literary digest. The plot is too convoluted for a short synopsis, but it's basically the story about a poor young man who falls in love with the wrong person, finds out wealth doesn't make you happy, and ultimately devotes his life to being good and kind to others. Basically a story about the great expectations young men have for their own lives. 
> 
> 2\. Sami People - Also spelled Saami, and often historically referred to in English as Lapps or Laplanders (though today these terms can be considered pejorative by some), are an indigenous people of northern Scandinavia, including Russia's Kola Peninsula. The Sami people traditionally practiced shamanism and polytheism, and today they are Europe's only recognized indigenous people. Traditionally the Sami people are known for reindeer herding, and like many indigenous people in recent history have come into conflict with modern governments to preserve their rights and way of life. In Russia today there are only about 2,000 Sami people still living on the Kola Peninsula, with the majority of them living in or around Lovozero, where they were forcibly relocated by the Soviet government during development of the peninsula's resources. Today the Sami people in Russia are considered part of "Sapmi," the larger Sami nation, and have established a cultural center for northern peoples in Lovozero. 
> 
> Related disclaimer: I have NO IDEA if the curriculum in Russian schools includes indigenous people or not. Where I grew up we absolutely learned about the culture and traditions of the local native people in school. I realize this is probably not everyone's experience. But, in the end, this is fiction, so just go with it. 
> 
> **Follow me on tumblr and twitter!**  
> [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com/)  
> [@martymuses](https://twitter.com/martymuses)


	8. The Pursuit of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been four months since I managed an update, but I promise that the story is not dead! There's just been a lot getting in the way of me getting any writing done, including having chemical bronchitis for a good part of March and April while still trying to settle into my new place. 
> 
> But here, at least, is chapter 8. Thanks to everyone who is still reading and leaving kudos and comments! I really appreciate it, even when it may see like I've fallen off the face of the earth. 
> 
> Please enjoy, and thank you for your patience. <3 
> 
> **Follow me on tumblr and twitter!**   
>  [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com/)   
>  [@martymuses](https://twitter.com/martymuses)

**_180 Words for Snow_ **

**_Chapter 8_ **

_ The snow lies unbroken. It hurts my eyes. Atop the empty train car I can see for miles. Miles of trees and snow and emptiness.  _

_ Yukito slides a duffle bag loaded with warm clothes and provisions from the dining car off the roof into the snow. In someone’s luggage he’s found a heavy winter jacket with a fur-lined hood. With his dark hair and slanted eyes he looks like a Siberian tribesman.  _

_ He slides down after the bag, landing in the snow with a soft ‘oof.’  _

_ “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I’ve asked the question at least a dozen times.  _

_ “What should we do? Stay and freeze to death? No one is coming for us, Sasha. Everyone else is gone.”  _

_ His words remind me of the empty train cars below my feet. I shudder thinking of the abandoned luggage. The silence. The cold.  _

_ “There ought to be tracks.”  _

_ He looks up at me, his moon face framed by the dark fur of the hood. “What?”  _

_ “If they were evacuated there ought to be tracks in the snow. Snow treads. Something. There’s nothing.” I wave my hand at the emptiness.  _

_ “It’s probably snowed since then,” he responds and lifts his arms up towards me, beckoning. “Come on. Toss the tent down.”  _

_ I hesitate. I’m uncertain that this is a good idea. I’m not even certain that this isn’t a dream.  _

_ But as he stares up at me I know that if he is going, I am also going. I am his now. I nudge the bag with the emergency tent in it off the side and then sit and slide off after it into the snow.  _

_ “If we follow the tracks-”  _

_ “The tracks are covered in snow. That’s the whole problem,” I cut him off.  _

_ He looks at me tersely. “We can still see the railroad markers.”  _

_ I sigh and shrug, lifting the heavier of the two bags. Without another word we begin making our way down the side of the train, car after car until we find the engine. It’s halfway buried in a huge snow drift. It’s no wonder the train shut down.  _

_ I look back down the long, empty, frozen train. “It’s like the world has stopped and there no one left in it but us.”  _

_ Yukito turns to follow my gaze. “Would that be so bad?”  _

* * *

__

The silence on the other end of the line began to make Yuuri uncomfortable. After catching Phichit up on everything that had happened, he’d expected his friend’s usual enthusiasm, had even been prepared for him to be scandalized, but he didn’t know what to make of the silence. 

Finally Phichit’s voice spoke up again. “So you’re going to go live in Russia now? With Victor Nikiforov?” 

Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck as he looked out the window of the guest bedroom over Chris and Johannes’ sloping backyard. The soft evening light was spreading over the frostbitten grass, giving the scene a bittersweet feeling. “I don’t know that  _ living _ is the right word. I mean... I’m going to  _ stay _ with him for a while, but we’re not like... permanently moving in together.” 

“Ok. But then what? You stay with him for a while. You have this whirlwind romance. Your visa expires. And then what? Will you come back to school? Go home to Japan? What happens to your relationship?” 

It was Yuuri’s turn to be silent for a long moment and then he sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’m trying not to.” He took a deep breath. “You think I’m being stupid.” 

“Mmmm... No. Not exactly. It’s just... Not like you. I’ve never really known you to be impulsive like this. It seems more like something I’d do.” Phichit laughed. “I guess I’m just surprised. You’re usually so cautious and methodical.” 

“I know, and look where it’s gotten me,” Yuuri said defensively. “I’ve been writing the same novel for more than half a decade. The whole reason I came to Europe was because I knew I needed to do something different. Not just in my writing, but in my approach to life. In that light things couldn’t have gone better.” 

“And it’s Victor Nikiforov.” 

Yuuri sighed and chuckled. “Yeah. And it’s Victor Nikiforov.” He looked out the window again, taking in the slope of the lawn and the frostbitten bushes.

“You’re really sure about this whole... falling for him thing?” 

Yuuri pursed his lips and felt his chest squeeze as he placed his hand over his heart. “I don’t think there’s any way I could  _ not _ have fallen for him.” 

“I’ve never heard you talk like some hopeless romantic before. It’s kind of scary,” Phichit’s voice carried his amusement through the phone. 

“I know I seem like an idiot.” 

Now Phichit’s voice carried a tone of exasperation. “I’m not saying that. You’re not an idiot. I just want you to be careful and make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Don’t just go along with whatever Victor wants because he’s your idol and you think that’s how relationships work. You’re going to be really dependent on him in Russia. So just make sure you’re being honest about what you want. With him and yourself.” 

Yuuri took a deep breath. “I know. I will.” He ran his fingers through his hair, remembering that feeling when he was finally alone on the train, the release of relief after his manic day with Victor in Bern. 

“So, how’s the book coming anyway?” 

Yuuri perked up at the question. “It’s good, actually.” He laughed. “I don’t think I ever thought I’d say that. But I’m almost done. Just working out the last section. It feels weird. I’m almost afraid to actually finish.” 

“Yeah, cause it’s real then. You wrote a novel and you’re going to get published. People are going to read it.” 

Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a nervous flutter in his stomach. “That’s not guaranteed.” 

“Oh, Yuuri, come on! Don’t be delusional. With Christophe Giacometti and Victor Nikiforov both backing it, you’re definitely going to be published. And I’m going to buy a first edition and get you to sign it for me with the sappiest note about how you couldn’t have done it without me and how my steadfast support is what’s gotten you to where you are.” 

Yuuri chuckled and grinned. “It wouldn’t be entirely untrue. You have really been there for me through a lot of my... issues.” 

“You’re gonna do great, Yuuri. I can’t wait to read your book.” There was a brief pause. “Oh shit, my next class is about to start. I’ve gotta run. But make sure you keep in touch. Don’t just get swallowed up by Russia and Victor and drop off the planet.” 

“I won’t. I still have to explain all of this to my parents.” Yuuri groaned softly. 

“Your parents are so chill. They’re just gonna be like ‘ok, sweetie, have fun!’” 

“You’re probably right. My sister’s the one I need to actually worry about. She probably would come all the way to Russia to defend my honor if she thought something fishy was going on.” Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of Mari making the long trip just to throttle Victor and then drag him back home.

“Well at least you have a knight in shining armor waiting for you in the wings. Ok. I gotta run. Text me and let me know about your visa and shit. And send me your new address when you get there! Someone should know where you actually are.” 

“Ok, ok.” 

They both chuckled and the line was quiet for a moment before Phichit spoke up again. “I’m really excited for you, Yuuri. I just want you to know that. Everything good that’s happening now, you totally deserve it. Remember that, ok?” 

Phichit’s words struck a chord, making Yuuri suddenly feel like crying. The last month had been so surreal. Everything in his life seemed like a dream at the moment. It was like the contrived plot of a romance novel. He was still struggling to wrap his head around the reality of it. 

“Ok. Thanks, Phichit. Have a good day.” 

“Later!” 

The call dropped into silence, and Yuuri took a deep breath, still looking out the window. 

After Victor left it had been strange being alone in Chris’ house. Not that he felt unwelcome, but he hadn’t realized just how much of an island unto themselves he and Victor had become. They’d spent most of the day together nearly every day, and even though a lot of that time had been spent in silence working on their writing, the absence of Victor was now like a void.  

On one hand it felt a bit like surfacing for air. On the other he felt exposed without the blanket of Victor’s presence. How did it come to this in such a short time? 

He checked his phone. There were no new messages. He hadn’t heard from Victor all day. He wondered if Victor was writing. Chris told him that he often turned his phone off when he was trying to focus. 

Yuuri hesitated. He didn’t want to distract Victor, but something about his talk with Phichit - or maybe it was the evening light - was making him feel lonely and anxious. He chewed the inside of his lip and then typed out a text message. 

Y: _ How was your day?  _

He waited, staring at his phone for about 30 seconds. When there was no reply he sighed and headed back out to the living room. The scent of cooking filled the house. 

It had been almost a week, and he still hadn’t received word from the Russian consulate. Victor assured him it wasn’t anything to be worried about, that it was probably just taking more time to process because he wasn’t applying from his home country. He said he’d call to inquire about it after a week had gone by. For some reason Yuuri wished he seemed a little more worried. 

He couldn’t help the negative thoughts that kept creeping into the back of his mind.  _ What if after he got home Victor realized how crazy this was and doesn’t want me to come anymore? What if he realized he’d prefer to be alone?What if he had another lover waiting for him in Russia all along? What if that bribe hadn’t been to push his visa through, but to make sure it didn’t go through at all? What more convenient excuse could there have been to simply end their relationship without any fuss?  _

Rationally, Yuuri knew that all of these thoughts were ridiculous. But there was very little that was rational when it came to his anxiety.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head as he came into the kitchen. Johannes was at the stove, but Chris wasn’t helping him as usual. “Hey, Johannes. Can I help with anything? Is Chris skipping cooking duty tonight?”

Johannes chuckled. “He just got a new box of advanced copies. He’s like a kid at Christmas, so I thought I’d get dinner started without him before we all starve.”

“Sounds exciting. I hope he finds some good ones.” Yuuri slid into one of the chairs at the counter. 

Johannes turned around. “Not Chris. He loves reviewing bad books.” He laughed and then pointed to a cutting board on the counter. “If you want to help you could cut up the vegetables.” 

“Sure.” As Yuuri slid off the stool his phone chimed. His heart lurched at the sound. 

V: _ I just woke up! I’m about to make some tea. I miss you! What are you doing? Did your visa approval come today?  _

Y: _ Just getting up? Lol Have you been sleeping all day?  _ __   
__ _ No, it didn’t come. :(  _ _   
_ __ __ I’m making dinner with Johannes. 

Yuuri looked up from his phone, pursing his lips a little. “Johannes... what’s the time difference between here and St. Petersburg?” 

“It’s one hour later there. Why?” 

Yuuri snorted and shook his head. “Victor just messaged me that he ‘just woke up.’ It’s past six pm there.” 

Johannes chuckled. “That’s not that surprising. Victor keeps odd hours when he’s in the throes of his writing. I was impressed how regular his schedule was while he was here.” He smirked a little. “But I think that had more to do with wanting to spend time with you than anything else.” 

Yuuri smiled faintly, pleased by that idea, but also struck once again at how much more Chris and Johannes knew about Victor than he did. He sighed louder than he meant to as he stood in front of the cutting board.

Johannes arched an eyebrow. “Why the long sigh?” 

Yuuri pursed his lips again as he reached for a knife and an onion. “I always felt like I knew Victor through his writing. That in some way being a big fan of his meant that I understood him in a way other people probably didn’t. But now I’m realizing more and more how incredibly deluded that was of me. The truth is, especially compared to you and Chris, I hardly know Victor at all.” 

“Well, that’s to be expected. You’ve only known him a month. We’ve known him for years.” 

Yuuri took a deep breath. “I know. It’s just that I  _ feel _ like I’ve known him so much longer. That I  _ should _ know more about him.” He cut into the onion, starting to chop it into small pieces. “Victor said it didn’t matter. That getting to know one another was part of the excitement of becoming lovers.” 

“Do you disagree?” 

Yuuri shook his head. “It’s not that I disagree. I guess I’m just... worried.”

“But you’re still going to St. Petersburg.” It was said as a statement of fact. 

Yuuri looked over his shoulder. “Do you think I shouldn’t?” 

“Do  _ you _ think you shouldn’t?” Johannes looked back at him with a mild expression. 

Yuuri turned back to the cutting board. He was quiet for a few moments. “I want to. I want to see him again. I want to be with him.” His eyes prickled and he blamed it on the onions. “I’m just afraid that wanting it makes me a fool.”

“Do you know how many sayings there are about how love makes fools? I can think of three just off the top of my head,” Johannes said with a chuckle. “I think you are a fool. And I think Victor was a fool for coming here. And I think Chris was a fool for chasing after me no matter how many times I told him I wasn’t interested. But at the end of the day I’m am the one cooking him dinner. And I don’t think anyone can fall in love without becoming a fool.” 

“It’s scary,” Yuuri said quietly after a moment’s reflection. 

“It is. But sometimes you just have to face the unknown and be afraid. But for what it’s worth I think you and Victor are good for each other. You will challenge each other.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but smirk. “And challenges are good in a relationship?” 

At that moment Chris emerged from his office down the hallway with a loud burst of laughter. Yuuri looked up from the cutting board to see him hurrying towards them. 

Behind him Johannes sighed. “Oh, believe me. Every relationship is all about challenges.” 

“Look what I have!” Chris brandished the book in his hand, grinning as he came up to the counter. He held it out for both Yuuri and Johannes to see. It was an advance copy edition, just the title and author’s name printed on the plane cover in a boring font. 

“ _ Highland Depths!  _ First of all, what a stupid title. Second of all it’s book 1 of the ‘Loch Ness Shapeshifter Saga.’ It’s about a hot, broody Scotsman who shapeshifts into Nessy. Historical, of course.” Chris’ glee was almost palpable. 

“O-oh,” Yuuri said, blinking at the book and then looking at Chris. “That sounds... interesting.” 

“No it doesn’t! It sounds abominable. This,” he pointed at the nondescript cover, “is historical romance, Loch Ness Monster, shapeshifter smut! And it’s only book 1. I cannot wait to read this delicious trash heap.” He sighed dreamily and gazed at the book. “I can just see the cover now. A shirtless man with flowing black hair in a kilt and Nessy’s head and neck rising out of the lake behind him, looking incredibly phallic as it drips with loch water.” 

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Johannes said dryly. “And why would they send you a romance novel?” 

Chris snorted. “They’re shopping it as ‘historical drama.’ Shall I start a live reading?” 

Yuuri watched the two men banter companionably with each other. He envied them and their ease with one another. The assured way they were so obviously a couple. Would he have that with Victor one day? Would they overcome the challenges set before them? Could this budding infatuation with one another truly become something real? 

The sound of his phone chiming drew Yuuri out of his thoughts with a little start. Chris was at the stove now, fussing at Johannes over whatever he was making. He touched the phone in his pocket and suddenly was filled with an intense longing for Victor. 

“Chris,” he cut in, “could you finish cutting these vegetables? I need to... go do something.” He was already hurrying out of the kitchen before Chris could respond, heading back to the quiet sanctuary of the guest room. 

He didn’t even bother to read Victor’s message as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called him. Yuuri bit his thumb nail as the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Yuuri?” Victor’s voice sounded far away and a little concerned. 

“Victor!” he gasped, pressing his hand over his heart, which he now realized was beating fast and hard. A wave of irrational relief went through him. 

“Yes? Yuuri, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

“No,” he said in a rush of air, sitting down heavily on the end of the bed. “I just... really wanted to hear your voice. I... I really miss you.” 

“Yuuri...” Victor’s voice was soft, as if a little surprised. He chuckled. “I miss you, too. I can’t wait for you to get here.” 

“I’m worried about my visa,” he blurted out. 

“Why? Did something happen? Did you get some kind of notice?”

Yuuri shook his head. “No, but it’s been almost a week. They said five days. What if... what if they deny it? What if I can’t come be with you?” He could feel his eyes stinging again and that all too familiar racing feeling in his chest clawing its way up towards his throat. 

Victor took a deep breath. “Then I will come back to Switzerland and we will figure it out together.” 

That made Yuuri feel a little better. Even if his visa was denied it wasn’t as if he’d never see Victor again. “Ok.”

“And I will call the consulate tomorrow. I’m sure it’s just a normal bureaucratic hang up.”

“Ok.” Yuuri swallowed and wiped at his eyes. “Argh!” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“No... it’s nothing. I just... touched my eye with onion fingers.” Yuuri squeezed one eye closed as it stung and itched. 

Victor laughed. “Yuuri! Take better care of yourself. You’re my Yuuri now. I need you in one piece.” 

Yuuri wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “You need me?” 

“I need you.” Victor’s voice was soft. 

“I...” Yuuri croaked softly, “I need you, too. I want to be with you.” 

“I want the same thing. Soon, one way or another we’ll be together. I promise.” 

Yuuri took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, feeling the clawing sensation release his chest a little. “Ok.” He twisted his lips and pushed his free hand between his knees. “Did I interrupt your writing?” 

“Mmm... not really. I took a long nap for a good part of the day. I’ve just been making tea and something to eat. I’ll start writing shortly.”

“Ok. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to distract you. I just... really missed you all of a sudden.” 

“Oooh, I like to know you are missing me. Makes me feel special.” 

Yuuri flushed a little. “You know you’re special already.” 

“I know, but I like to hear you say it.” 

“You’re special.” 

Victor laughed softly. “You are also very special.” 

Yuuri flushed. “Thanks.” 

For a few moments silence hung between them on the phone, but it didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. Knowing Victor was there, connected to him all those miles away was calming. “I guess I should let you get to work. I should also probably go back to the kitchen. I kind of ran out of there with no explanation.” 

“Just because you wanted to talk to me?” 

“Yeah. Watching Chris and Johannes together just made me feel so lonely for you.” 

“I’m right here. You can call me whenever you want to. You don’t have to hold back.” 

Yuuri smirked softly. “Even when your phone is turned off?” 

“It isn’t, though! I leave it on just for you. Just in case you need me.” 

Yuuri smiled, feeling a soft warmth slowly replace the racing feeling in his chest. “You do?” 

“Yes. It’s not been off once since I got home. I’m always waiting for your message or call.” He sounded a little petulant. 

“I thought I was being considerate cause you had to work! Why didn’t you say something, or why didn’t you message or call me more?” 

“I didn’t want to seem clingy,” Victor said, that pouty tone still in his voice. 

Yuuri sighed in exasperation and then shook his head with a laugh. “Ok, from now on message me whenever you want.” 

“Ok, same for you. But it won’t be much longer. I promise.” 

“How do you know?”

“I have my ways,” Victor said mysteriously. 

“Victor... do not bribe anyone else.” 

“I will not reveal my methods to you.” 

“Victor!” 

Victor laughed. “Call me tomorrow and let me know if your visa comes or not. If not then I will call. If so then I will make your flight arrangements right away, and you will be here with me in no time.” 

“Ok,” Yuuri nodded. “I’ll let you get to work. Have a good evening, Victor.” 

“You, too, Yuuri. Say hello to Johannes and Chris for me.”

“I will. I.. I miss you.” 

“I miss you more.” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “How do you know?” 

Victor chuckled. “I just do. Goodnight, my Yuuri.” 

“Goodnight, Victor.” 

* * *

Even though Victor’s call to the consulate reassured him the process was proceeding normally, it was another three days of worry and anxiety before Yuuri received notification that his visa had been approved. Victor had his flight booked almost immediately, and it was with a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and sadness that he enjoyed one last night with Chris and Johannes in their home. 

By eight o’clock the next morning he was saying goodbye to Chris on the platform of the train to Bern, huddled deep inside his anorak as the stiff morning wind blew up the tracks. 

“You didn’t have to come to the platform with me,” he said apologetically for the third or fourth time. “It’s cold today.”

“I wanted to see you off properly,” Chris said again. “I live here, I’m used to the weather.” He chuckled and smiled. “I’m really glad that we met.” 

Yuuri let out a puff of laughter. “ _ You’re _ glad?” He shook his head. “No. I’m the one who’s glad. Meeting you... it’s completely changed things for me. Thank you, Chris. I really mean it.” 

Chris’ smile softened and he pulled Yuuri into a hug. “I hope you have the most wonderful time in St. Petersburg. And you’d better send me your manuscript as soon as you finish it. I can’t wait to read the ending.” 

Yuuri returned the embrace, squeezing Chris. “I will. Hopefully you don’t hate it.” 

Chris laughed. “Well, if I do I’ll tell you up front.” 

Yuuri stepped back, flushed from the cold and smiling as he looked up at his friend. “I know. I’m counting on it.” 

A woman’s voice came over the speakers, announcing the arrival of Yuuri’s train. 

“That’s you,” Chris said, his smile becoming a little sad. “Have a good trip. And don’t let Victor only have his own way.” 

Yuuri blinked, remembering that Phichit has said nearly the same thing. He smiled to one side. “I’ll try. Bye Chris. Thanks again for everything.” 

Chris started to back towards the door leading back into the station. “Don’t be a stranger! I want to hear how things are going!” 

Yuuri waved. “Ok! I promise.” He watched Chris disappear into the station building and then took a deep breath, turning around to face the train and all of the uncertainty it was carrying him towards. 

By ten he was picking up his visa from the Russian Consulate and by quarter to eleven he was in a taxi on his way to the airport for his all-day trek. His stomach fluttered all the way through the airport, and once he was at his gate he couldn’t stop his knee from bouncing as he waited to board. To his great surprise he found himself seated in first class, and couldn’t help but imagine Victor’s smile as he congratulated himself on getting him such a nice seat. 

Once he was settled he pulled out his phone as the plane continued to board. 

Y: _ First class, huh?  _

Yuuri stared at his phone, willing Victor to reply. 

V: _ Isn’t it nice?! Are you comfortable? I thought you could get some writing done.  _

Yuuri snorted softly and shook his head, though he was smiling to himself like an idiot. 

Y: _ Yes, it’s very comfortable. Though I’ll probably just read.  _

V: _ What are you reading?  _

Y:  _ Oh... just this book that I like that’s written by this guy I kind of know. He’s kind of a big deal.  _

V: _ Who???  _

Y:  _.......  _

V: _....... ? _ __   
__ _ Oh! You meant me!  _ __   
__ _ Haha I see what you did now.  _ __   
__ _ Awww, you will read one of my books while you are coming to me? _ _   
_ __ __ You are so cute. <3 

Yuuri colored at Victor’s messages, keeping his head down as he stared at his phone, hoping that no one was paying any attention to him. 

Y: _ Don’t tease. You know I’m getting embarrassed. _

V: _ I am imagining it with great relish. ;)  _ _   
_ __ _ I hate that I won’t see you for nearly twelve hours.  _

Y: _ You hate it? I’m the one who has to travel all day.  _

V:  _ I know. The connections are not very good.  _

Y: _ Not your fault. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing compared to flying back and forth to Japan and the US.  _

A soft female voice came over the intercom, gently urging everyone to please take their seat and that passengers begin putting away their personal electronics. 

Y: _ Looks like boarding is almost completed. I should turn my phone to airplane mode.  _

V: _ Haha. As expected, Yuuri is so obedient. I always wait until the last moment.  _

Yuuri twisted his lips. Just thinking about sitting there with his phone on after he’d been politely requested to put it away was stressful. 

Y:  _ Well, I’m not you. I’ll text you when I get to Amsterdam.  _

V: _ Ok! I can’t wait to see you tonight. Try to get some sleep. I want you have some energy when you get here. ;)  _

Yuuri blinked at the message and blushed, feeling a little flustered by what Victor’s intended implications may be. He took a deep breath and settled back into his seat, putting his earbuds in and then pulling out his copy of  _ Stay Close to Me. _ He hoped that this would be a clear sign to whoever was sitting next to him to not try to engage him in conversation. 

He opened the book to a random page and began reading. The plane hadn’t been in the air more than a few minutes when he nodded off against the bulkhead. 

The rest of the day passed at the monotonous yet inevitable pace of long distance travel. Yuuri slept most of the flight to Amsterdam and spent most of his layover in an airport bar nursing a beer. It took the edge off of his nervous, anxious excitement. He moved between reading and trying to be productive with his writing. But he just couldn’t stay focused, and inevitably ended up closing his laptop and going back to mindlessly skimming through pages of  _ Stay Close to Me.  _

When he finally boarded the plane for St. Petersburg, he was ready to fall back into sleep. He was thankful to Victor to find he had another first class seat waiting for him. Before anyone could try to strike up a conversation he pulled the airline provided blanket up around himself and closed out the rest of the world. He didn’t sleep as well this time though, and found himself restlessly getting up to go to the bathroom more often than he really needed to. 

A few times he stopped in the alcove by the in-flight kitchen and toilets to gaze out the window. It was already dark and most of the time he couldn’t see much of anything but the clouds illuminated by the bright light of the moon, which hung unobscured so high up. But sometimes, far, far below them, he could see pricks of light from cities and towns spider-webbing across the the seemingly endless stretches of Europe that still stood between him and Victor. 

Even with all of the intercontinental traveling he had done, that three hour flight felt like the longest of his life. 

When the plane finally began to make its final descent Yuuri stared fixedly out the window. As they drew close the lights of the city shone brightly, revealing highways and streets and the winding, almost snakelike outline of the Neva River as it made its way into the heart of the city before branching and flowing out into the Neva Bay and the Gulf of Finland. 

Even from the air St. Petersburg was beautiful. A city built by emperors. The Venice of the north. The home of Victor Nikiforov. 

He wondered where exactly in that beautiful city Victor lived. Could he see his home from the sky? 

Yuuri’s eyes drank in all that he could as the plane descended lower and lower until suddenly they were there and the runway was rushing to meet them. The moment he felt the lurch of the plane touching down, Yuuri’s heart began to race. This was it. It was really real. He was in St. Petersburg. He was going to be with Victor again. 

It was all he could do to keep his excitement and anxiety under control as the plane took what felt like an eternity to taxi to the gate. He wished he could feel relieved as he gathered his things and prepared to disembark, but there was still customs and immigration to contend with between him and Victor. He tried not to look too hurried or too nervous as he followed the signs - thankfully written in both Russian and English - to the immigration lines. 

It was after midnight, so thankfully the lines were not too long. He took his place in line and then pulled out his phone. 

Y: _ I’m here! Waiting in line at immigration. Shouldn’t be too long... hopefully.  _

V: _ Ok! I’m making my way to the place you should exit into the main terminal. I will see you there soon.  _

Y: _ Ok. I can’t wait. I feel a little like I’m gonna throw up.  _

V: _ Please do not! D:  _

Yuuri grinned, feeling like his nervous energy was about to bubble over. 

Y: _ Haha I won’t. I’m just so excited.  _

V:  __ _ Me too.  _

Yuuri took a deep breath and moved along with the line. He pulled out his passport, flipping to the page that held his Russian visa as his foot tapped against the floor. Each time the line moved he was that much closer to Victor. 

It took about ten minutes before it was his turn. He was directed to a kiosk by a line attendant. The immigration officer sitting there smiled at him blandly and motioned him forward. 

“Your passport and customs paperwork, please.” His accent was thicker than Victor’s. 

Yuuri slid the documents to him over the counter. The man looked at it, looked at him, flipped to the page with his visa and looked at him again. “From Japan? You understand English?” 

“Yes,” Yuuri said quickly, swallowing down the nervous lump in his throat. 

The officer nodded. “What is your purpose for visiting Russia?” 

“Ah, I’m visiting a friend. As a tourist.” 

“Are you staying with this friend?” the officer asked, his tone bored from the routine of his questions. 

“Yes.” 

He looked over Yuuri’s customs form, which he’d filled out on the plane and had Victor’s address on it as his destination address. The officer looked up at him for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing a little, and then he looked back down at the paper. 

Yuuri swallowed again. “Is... is there a problem?” 

The officer looked up, his expression bored again. “No. It’s a nice address.” He stamped Yuuri’s passport and then handed it back to him. “Enjoy your stay in Russia.” 

He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the officer’s reaction, but he just thanked him and quickly took his passport, glancing around for the signs that lead to the exit. 

His heart was hammering in his chest by the time he could see the exit leading out into the main terminal with it’s “No Re-Entry” signs posted along the way. He swallowed and hurried forward, dragging his roller bag after him, eyes searching for Victor in the milling crowd of people waiting there. But no matter how many faces he scanned, none of them were that of the impossibly good looking man he was pretty sure he’d fallen hopelessly in love with. 

Once past the threshold of the exit, the airport opened up before him. It looked like many airports he’d been in before. High, open ceilings, wide, open walkways. Duty free shops and art installations. News stands. A currency exchange. But even as he took in all of these things he still didn’t see Victor. Just an ominous, anonymous crowd of strangers pushing past one another, greeting loved ones, going on about their business. 

He felt like he was the only one who didn’t know what he was doing, where he was going, or why he was there. 

His heart lurched and his anxiety began to rise to push out his excitement. Victor’s last message said he was almost there. That was fifteen minutes ago. Where was he? Had he decided not to come after all? 

Someone bumped into Yuuri from behind and he stumbled a little as the man mumbled something in a language he didn’t understand. It was then that Yuuri realized he’d stopped dead in the middle of traffic coming out of the exit behind him. Collecting himself he started to move towards a wall.

“Yuuri!” 

Yuuri’s head snapped around and his eyes widened at the sight of Victor hurrying towards him through the crowd. He sighed, his whole body flooding with an intoxicating wave of relief. “Victor,” he breathed and then began moving towards him hurriedly, the smile growing on his face. 

The closer they got the faster they moved, and before he knew it Yuuri was swept up in Victor’s embrace. His heart was hammering in his chest as he wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his neck and shoulder. 

He smelled wonderful. 

They stood there for some time, letting the people part around them and then Victor finally leaned back. He had a worried look on his face. 

“I’m so sorry, I got lost. I thought I knew where I was going, but I ended up at the wrong end of the airport.” He pouted. “I wanted to be here when you walked out of those doors.” 

Yuuri smiled softly. “It’s ok. I was worried for a moment, but I would have just texted you.” 

“Still,” Victor said a bit petulantly, but then gazed at Yuuri lovingly. “You’re here.” 

“I am,” Yuuri said with a burst of breathy, nervous laughter. “I’m here. In Russia.” 

“With me.” 

His expression softened and became a little bashful. “With you.” 

“I want to kiss you,” Victor said dreamily. 

Yuuri leaned back further. “In public?” His eyes darted around at all of the anonymous passersby.  

“Oh, just a little kiss,” Victor whined. 

Yuuri’s eyes moved back to Victor’s face. He flushed but couldn’t deny the happy fluttering of his heart. “Ok. Just a little one.” 

Victor grinned and then his expression became soft and sultry as he leaned in, pulling Yuuri close once more to press their lips together. 

Whatever Victor’s intentions had been, it was not a little kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of days of longing and uncertainty, of desire stoked by absence, of possession and obsession. Of need and joy. Victor’s arms held him tightly, pulling him slightly onto his tips toes. Yuuri’s fingers clutched at Victor’s hair and grasped the collar of his camel hair coat. He could smell the scent of him, the same as it was on his scarf: sweet and foreign and expensive. 

When their lips finally parted it left Yuuri breathless. “You lied,” he said with a wry smile, his cheeks darkly flushed. 

Victor grinned, his gaze adoring. “I know.” 

* * *

The trip from Pulkovo Airport to Victor’s apartment in the Tsentralny District was a bit of a blur. At night Yuuri could only make out as much of the city as the lights along the road allowed, but even so St. Petersburg gave him a sense of grandeur he hadn’t quite experienced anywhere else he’d been. It felt as imposing as it was beautiful. 

They drove down wide, beautiful avenues as they got deeper into the center of the city. Several times they drove over bridges and Yuuri could see up the streets that lined canals and rivers as he watched out the window. It was late, so the streets were largely quiet. It almost seemed like he and Victor were completely alone, driving through an empty city full of history and ghosts. 

Eventually they turned off from one of the wide avenues onto narrower side streets. Victor drove slowly, carefully scanning back and forth. 

“Sorry. The buildings here are beautiful and historic, but none of them have parking. I hope you don’t mind a little walk. I know it’s cold out.” 

Yuuri shook his head. “It’s fine. To be honest I was a little surprised you had a car.” He chuckled. 

Victor glanced at Yuuri with an arched eyebrow. “Why?” 

Yuuri laughed again. “I’m not sure. I just... kind of imagined you hiring someone to drive you around everywhere.” 

It was Victor’s turn to laugh. “I’m not that incapable. Though it is true I don’t drive very often. I take a taxi or use public transportation most of the time. Parking in the city is always a pain.” 

“Well, thank you for coming to pick me up in your car then,” Yuuri said with a lopsided smile. 

Victor gave him a wink. “I wanted to get you home as soon as possible.” 

Yuuri blushed and let out a little laugh, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. He looked out the window again just as Victor made a triumphant sound, spotting a free parking spot along the curb. “It’s not too far from here. A couple of blocks,” he said as he put the car in park and turned to Yuuri. “I’ll put my arm around you to keep you warm.” 

Yuuri smirked, climbing out of the car. Just as Victor had said, it was quite cold, though he didn’t think it was freezing yet. There wasn’t any snowfall on the ground and none of the waterways they’d driven over were frozen. He zipped his anorak up all the way and waited on the sidewalk as Victor took out his bags. He slipped on his backpack and then reached for his roller bag, but instead Victor took his hand, pulling the bag along behind him as they turned down the street. 

“You don’t have to take it,” Yuuri protested. 

Victor chuckled and then tugged him close into his side so that he could slip his arm around him. “Yuuri, be quiet. You came all this way for me. The least I can do is carry your luggage for a couple blocks.” 

Yuuri smiled, feeling warmed just being close to Victor. He slid his arm around his waist and then fell silent as they made their way to Victor’s apartment building. When Victor stopped outside of a set of ornate period doors Yuuri’s eyes grew a little wide. The beautiful Baroque building sat on a corner and faced directly onto a street along one of St. Petersburg’s many waterways. He remembered the look that he’d gotten from the immigration officer and his comment about Victor’s address. 

He hadn’t really thought about it before, but living in this part of the city, especially in a building directly along one of the rivers, must have been incredibly expensive. This wasn’t the kind of place just anyone could afford to live. 

“Oh, wow,” Yuuri said as he looked up at the building and then turned to look at the river as Victor opened the door.  

“That’s the Moyka River,” Victor said with a smile. “The view is much better from my apartment, especially during the day. There are many beautiful parts of St. Petersburg, but this area is - in my opinion - especially nice. There are lots of rivers and canals nearby as well as museums and other attractions. You’ll be able to experience a lot without having to go very far.” 

Yuuri looked back at Victor with a wry smile. “Guess I shouldn’t have expected anything less from you.”

Victor laughed and motioned for Yuuri to go inside and then followed him, making sure the door shut behind them. 

The entry foyer was somehow both modern and classic, opulent and understated. It made Yuuri feel like he probably shouldn’t touch anything. There was a desk with an attendant who glanced up at them as they entered and then nodded to Victor before quietly going back to minding their own business. 

“I’ve already told the desk attendants that you’ll be staying here. I have a key to my apartment and a card to get you in the building upstairs.” 

“Oh. Ok,” was all Yuuri could think to say as they headed toward a set of elevators with shining, polished mirrored doors.    

Yuuri looked at their reflection as they waited. Victor was so tall and elegant standing next to him in his fashionable clothes, his hair combed perfectly into place. He couldn’t tell if he looked tired because it was so late, or if he actually seemed a bit more drawn since they’d parted in Switzerland. Even so, the faint lines around his eyes didn’t do anything to detract from his good looks. Yuuri couldn’t help but feel, not for the first time, that he didn’t really look like he belonged next to him. 

He felt Victor looking at him and met his gaze in the mirror. 

“What are you thinking about so busily?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri’s brows furrowed a bit. “Just... feeling a little out of place.” 

Victor’s smile softened and he reached for Yuuri’s hand as the elevator chimed, announcing it’s imminent arrival. “That’s normal, isn’t it? You’re in a place you’ve never been before. I’m sure you’ll get used to it.” 

Yuuri smiled faintly, wanting to feel reassured. “Yeah. I’m sure you’re right.” 

The mirrored doors opened and Victor lead Yuuri inside, pressing the button for the top floor. Faint music played as they stood silently side by side, waiting for the elevator to finish it’s ascent. As the doors opened again, Victor squeezed his hand and they exchanged a glance that was equal parts anticipation and nervousness.

Yuuri thought his heart might burst or leap out of his mouth the whole way down the hallway. By the time they were at Victor’s apartment Yuuri found himself holding his breath as Victor unlocked the door, pushed it open, turned on a light and then beckoned him inside. With a deep breath he stepped over the threshold and into Victor’s world. 

It was far more contemporary in its styling than Yuuri would have expected from the Baroque exterior of the building and the interior design of the lobby. It was a corner apartment with high ceilings, clean lines, and a kind of mid-century modern feel to it. Standing inside the door he felt an odd sensation of surrealism that he should be there in Victor’s home, in the place where he’d written a number of his favorite books. It was so different than just being with Victor. Here he was surrounded by him, by the space that was uniquely his own. 

“I’ll take your bag to the bedroom.” Victor’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts and Yuuri glanced at him, swallowing, feeling his heart beat faster than normal. 

“Sure.” He slid out of his backpack, leaving it on the floor by the door and then took off his coat and shoes before stepping further into the apartment. He was drawn to the windows on the living room wall. They looked out over the road, the Moyka River, and the building lined street on the opposite side. 

Victor was right. The view was a lot better from up here. 

He could feel the cold radiating from the window panes and his breath even clouded a little as it puffed against the glass. He touched the cold pane with his fingertips, lifting his eyes to gaze as far as he could over the city’s rooftops. 

“Are you tired? Hungry?” Victor’s voice drew him again. 

Yuuri turned away from the window, feeling a little awkward, unable to shake that feeling of being out of place. “Tired. Not really hungry.” 

Victor was standing across the room from him, and despite their happy reunion in the airport, now, in the dimness of Victor’s luxury fifth floor apartment, Yuuri felt every inch of the distance between them. 

“Then shall we go to bed?”  

Yuuri licked his lips, feeling his mouth go dry. He wondered what “bed” entailed in Victor’s mind. A nervous, almost sickening flutter started in his stomach. He swallowed. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.” 

Victor smiled. “Alright. I’m going to take Makkachin out. Your bag’s in the bedroom, so you can get ready.” His smile became a little more teasing. “I trust you can find the bathroom without me here to play tour guide.” 

Yuuri snorted. “I’m sure. If not I’ll just sit patiently on the bed and wait for you to come back.” 

Victor’s eyes narrowed a little and he chuckled. “I don’t dislike the sound of that.” 

Yuuri shook his head, flushing a little as he crossed the room toward the door he assumed lead to the bedroom. Victor’s long fingers closed gently around his wrist as he passed by. Yuuri paused, lifting his gaze to meet Victor’s. His heart skipped a beat as, for a long moment, Victor didn’t say anything. 

“Thank you,” he said finally, “for coming all of this way to be with me.” 

Yuuri’s heart leapt into his throat and he tried to swallow it down, afraid he might croak if he tried to speak. “You already came all the way to Switzerland for me. And you didn’t even know me then.” 

Victor’s gaze softened. “That’s true.” He leaned in and Yuuri lifted his face, his eyes sliding closed as their lips touched. The kiss was sweet in its brevity. After just a moment they were moving apart again, Victor calling to Makkachin as Yuuri disappeared into the bedroom. 

He changed into his pajamas first, not bothering to do any other unpacking other than his bag of toiletries, which he took to the bathroom. Victor still wasn’t back by the time he’d washed and brushed. He went to the bedroom window, which faced perpendicular to the ones in the living room. Different rooftops. Different lights. If he looked down he could see the street, lined with parked cars. Someone was making their way up the sidewalk, but it wasn’t Victor. 

After a few minutes he turned away from the window again, wondering where Victor was. How far did he walk Makkachin at this time of the night? Did he need to be alone? Was he already having second thoughts?

Yuuri took a deep breath and silently berated himself for letting his anxious thoughts get the better of him. 

He looked at the large bed and wondered which side Victor liked to sleep on. He guessed probably the same side that he slept on at Chris’ house, so he made his way to the opposite side and pulled back the covers, sliding between the cool sheets. He lay quietly in the bed, waiting for Victor’s return. 

* * *

Victor was cold by the time he came back up to his apartment. He hadn’t meant to be gone so long, but there was something about the quiet streets on cold nights that he loved. And he had sensed some of Yuuri’s tension, and thought maybe a little time alone to adjust might not be unappreciated. Though if he was honest he hated to be apart from him when they had only just reunited. 

But Chris had warned him not to be too pushy and selfish, so the least he could do was try. Even if he didn’t like it. 

The apartment was quiet when he let himself back in. The light in the entryway was still on, but otherwise it seemed to be dark. He shut off the light, checked Makkachin’s water bowl and then quietly went into the bedroom. He wasn’t sure if he was tired or not. He often slept through part of the day and then stayed up late writing. But tonight he wanted to be with Yuuri more than he wanted to write. 

Victor felt a little stab of disappointment when he saw that Yuuri was already in bed. Not that it wasn’t understandable, he’d had a long day of travel, which was always exhausting. But still... he’d hoped he’d wait up for him so they could at least talk, or something more. 

Was Yuuri not as excited to be there as he was for him to be there? The thought made him feel petulant and fussy, but he tried to remember Chris’ words.

As he turned toward the bathroom, Yuuri’s voice came from behind, muffled by the bedding. “Victor?” Victor turned back to see him sitting up, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Did I wake you up?” 

Yuuri shook his head. “Not really. I was just dozing. You were gone for a while. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just got in bed.” 

Victor chuckled. “I’m sorry. I usually walk Makkachin for a while at night, so I guess I took longer than I meant to.” 

“Are you coming to bed?” 

Victor smiled, feeling relieved. “Yes. Just let me wash up and I’ll be right there.” 

By the time Victor returned, Yuuri had dozed off again, but as soon as his weight pressed into the mattress, Yuuri’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled a faint, dreamy smile. “I hope I picked the right side of the bed.” 

Victor chuckled as he slid under the covers. “You did.” He lay down, rolling onto his side so that he could gaze at Yuuri. They stared at each other in the dark, the only illumination the ambient light of the city coming in from the window. 

After a moment Victor couldn’t take it any longer and he gave in to his petulant feelings. “Yuu~ri!” he wriggled under the blankets, wrapping his arms around him tightly and pushing his legs between Yuuri’s. 

“Ah! V-Victor, your hands and feet are freezing!” 

“I know! Warm me up, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri let out a soft little laugh and wrapped his arms around Victor, rubbing his hands against the bare skin of his back. “You know, if you’re cold maybe you shouldn’t sleep naked,” he teased. 

Victor snorted. “Where is the fun in that? It’s too constraining. You, too, shouldn’t have all these unnecessary clothes on.” He tugged at the back of Yuuri’s t-shirt. 

“I always sleep like this,” Yuuri protested. 

Victor made a grumpy sound and then fell silent, his face pressed into the crook of Yuuri’s neck. He closed his eyes and breathed in. He could still smell Chris and Johannes’ house clinging to his clothes, mingling with Yuuri’s own smell. It had a nostalgic kind of feeling to it. 

They lay quietly like that for a few moments, as Victor wrestled with his neediness. Before finally raising his head to look at Yuuri a little desperately. “Aren’t you happy to be here with me?”

Yuuri blinked at him owlishly in the dark, feeling his cheeks heat up. “O-of course I am!” 

Victor pouted. “Then why do you feel so distant?” 

Yurri furrowed his brows, feeling an unpleasant nervousness squirm around in his chest and stomach. “I... I don’t mean to. I’m just... tired, I guess. And also,” he took a deep breath, “kind of overwhelmed.” 

“Isn’t that fine?” Victor said softly, though there was an earnestness to his voice. “I keep telling you that’s how it should be. I  _ want  _ to be overwhelmed by you.”

Yuuri swallowed. It was so easy for Victor to rationalize his irrational feelings.

They stared at each other a moment longer and Victor cupped Yuuri’s face, stroking his cheek as he studied him. 

“What... what do you want me to do?” Yuuri murmured. 

Victor smiled softly and leaned in. “Embrace me,” he whispered against Yuuri’s lips before pressing them together in a soft, but needful kiss. 

A tremor went through Yuuri from head to toe. The weight and warmth of Victor’s physical body next to his filled him with a sense of relief and reassurance. He was wanted, he was needed by this man that he had adored for so long. It still didn’t make any sense to him, but when Victor was kissing him like this there was no room for denial or doubt. 

He squeezed his arms around Victor and gave in to the desperate desire to be close to him that he so carefully nurtured and protected. Alone with Victor in the darkness of his apartment he finally let that feeling bloom. 

With hands and lips touching and tasting, with panted words and sweet sighs, Yuuri felt himself coming undone like an unwinding coil. When Victor rolled onto his back and pulled him on top he didn’t protest or try to hesitate. He let Victor push his hands up under his shirt and pull it off, let himself settle between the cradle of Victor’s thighs, pressing down against him, able to feel his heat and hardness through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. 

“Victor,” he breathed, closing his eyes as he rolled his hips forward. 

“Touch me,” Victor responded, finding Yuuri’s hand and guiding it down between their bodies, moving it over his erection and further between his legs. “Touch me here.” 

Yuuri slid his fingers against the hot flesh, and was a little surprised to find that it was already slick. He pressed the tips of his fingers gently against the tight hole and found that they slid inside easily. Victor hissed softly between his teeth. 

“Wow,” Yuuri murmured as he felt the soft heat of Victor’s body surrounding his fingers. “I guess you’d planned this all along.” He couldn’t help a teasing smirk even as his heart was beating crazily in his chest. 

“I... just wanted to be prepared,” Victor said. “I wanted... was hoping this night would be special.”

Yuuri smiled softly at Victor, touching their noses together as he pulled his fingers free. “It’s special. It would have been special no matter what. Just being here with you is the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“Yuuri...” Victor breathed, wrapping his arms around his neck to pull him down into another close kiss. When their lips parted he breathed softly. “Call me Vitya?” 

Yuuri knew enough about Russian culture from having been Victor’s fan to understand the intimacy calling Victor by that form of his name implied. And he thought for a moment that his heart might burst or that he might begin to cry from happiness. 

“Vitya,” he sighed hotly against Victor’s lips, and was rewarded with a soft sound from Victor he’d never heard before. They kissed and touched, moving together as Victor helped Yuuri undress. The heat of their bare skin sliding together was enough to make them melt. They didn’t hurry, they both knew where this was going and were happy to enjoy the journey.  

Finally, Victor reached for a condom he had ready on his bedside table. Victor’s hands were practiced as they reached for Yuuri blindly, sliding the condom down his shaft as he gazed up at him, his pale blue eyes hooded and gleaming in the bare light. He teased him through the thin material as he spread more lubricant generously over him. 

Yuuri’s mouth had gone completely dry, and he tried not to be nervous or think about his comparative lack of experience as Victor helped guide him to his entrance, steadying his hips with one hand. Yuuri held his breath as he pressed his hips forward, brows furrowed, eyes closed, and Victor’s legs wrapped around him as he began to slowly, achingly sink deeper and deeper inside of him. 

It took their breath away, this culminating moment of obsession and desire. 

For Yuuri it was the culmination of years of following Victor’s career, devouring his books, reading every article and every blog post he could find about him. Of loving him as a fan and as someone he aspired to be like. Of yearning to one day stand next to him as a colleague, as a writer. A dream. Intangible. Unobtainable. 

Yet here they were, not colleagues or even acquaintances. Both of which would have been far beyond Yuuri’s expectations of reality. No. Victor Nikiforov -  _ Vitya -  _ was his lover. 

For Victor it was the culmination of a whirlwind of unexpected feelings and the obsessissive drive to know this beautiful, shy, brilliant young man who had inspired him like a flash of lighting in the darkness of his apathy. Of being illuminated by his very presence. A light that shone into the darkest, dustiest recesses of his mind and heart. 

It was claiming  _ his _ Yuuri, feeling him become one with him. The realization of the desire he had felt since the first moment he had seen his face. The stranger who was his muse.  

It was not the most graceful or skillful executions of love making for either of them. Their emotions were too high and the need within both of them was too great. Yuuri was inexperienced. Victor was delirious. And they were both desperate. 

But they did not need finesse. In that moment all they needed was the intensity they shared and the unspoken permission to act upon them as they pleased. 

Somewhat to Victor’s chagrin things went rather faster than he would have liked. It wasn’t too long before he felt himself teetering on the verge as he clung to Yuuri with arms and legs, his fingers leaving red marks on his upper back. He whimpered close to Yuuri’s ear. 

“Yuuri... don’t stop. I’m... I’m so close already.” 

Yuuri huffed and groaned as Victor’s words made a strong shudder go through him. “O-ok, Vitya. Me, too. Come, it’s ok.” 

With a soft little cry, Victor pushed his fingers into Yuuri’s hair, tangling them tightly as he pulled him into a deep kiss. Their lips parted as Victor came, his back arching up off the bed as his hips pressed upwards. His fingers pulled at Yuuri’s hair as his body tightened down around him. That was all it took for Victor to take Yuuri with him, and Yuuri shuddered as he pressed himself fully flush to Victor, fingers curling in the sheets as he came. 

Afterwards they lay quietly for a long time, still connected as Yuuri rested, panting softly against Victor’s chest. Victor gazed up at the ceiling, his lids at half mast as he stroked his fingers through Yuuri’s dark, silky hair. The stayed like that in the dark until their heartbeats settled into a slow, tandem rhythm, and their breathing evened out. 

It was Yuuri who spoke first, his voice muffled against Victor’s chest. “Was that ok?” 

Victor blinked and then couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Yuuri, you don’t have to ask such a thing. It was obviously wonderful.” 

Yuuri smiled and lifted his head. “Well, it was my first time on top, so... I just wanted to make sure I was doing it right.” 

Victor smirked softly. “It’s not rocket science.” 

Yuuri smirked back. “No, but it  _ is _ biology.” 

Victor snorted and cupped Yuuri’s face, leaning up to kiss his forehead. “I came faster than I wanted to, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” 

“Good.” 

Victor placed a few more soft kisses on Yuuri’s face, one at the corner of either eye and one on the tip of his nose. Then he lay back with a sigh. “And now I think you probably are very tired since you were already tired when you got here.” 

Yuuri’s heart was still fluttering from the kisses as he smiled down at Victor. “I think that’s almost an understatement.” 

Victor gently pushed Yuuri off of him and onto his back. He took a few moments to clean them both up and then crawled back into bed, pulling Yuuri into his arms as they lay facing each other on the bed. 

“I’m so happy that you’re here with me, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri smiled, feeling at ease for the first time since Victor had left him in Switzerland. 

* * *

**_On Love_ **

**_Part 3: Mania_ **

_ The filth of the night before was exposed by the bleak light of morning.  _

_ All around them lay the detritus of what they had done. No, what  _ he _ had done. Ricky was, after all, ignorant, blameless for everything but being who he was. And in the end none of us can be anything but who we are.  _

_ Riki had to mire in it alone. Ignorance is bliss. And misery loves company.  _

_ Of all the times they’d come to the Victorian house to dance and smoke and be as completely imperfect as they wanted, why had the night before been the night? The night that finally took them to the destination Riki came to realize was their inevitable last stop?  _

_ Why had he let Ricky take him to the upstairs room; to the dirty mattress on the floor? To pull him inside of him?  _

_ And why hadn’t he stopped it? Why had he wanted it? And what had he felt when he pinned him down, saw his feverish expression of desire, came inside of him? It wasn’t exactly love, but it wasn’t exactly hate, either. No. It was more like triumph.  _

_ Sitting alone at the edge of the mattress, Riki took in the dirty room. The filled ashtrays. The empty bottles of stale beer. The dirty magazines and errant, discarded pieces of clothing.  _

_ Ricky’s arms wrapped around him from behind. He kissed his shoulder. Gooseflesh spread down his arms. Riki didn’t even have the decency to feel ashamed.  _

_ “I want to tell you something,” Ricky said.  _

_ Riki turned his head a little. He could smell Ricky’s hair. Shampoo and sweat and smoke.  _

_ “What?”  _

_ “I didn’t want to tell you before. But now I do.”  _

_ “What is it?”  _

_ The was a pause and then. “I don’t want you to hate me.”  _

_ Riki’s brows rose. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”  _

_ Ricky sighed and propped his chin on Riki’s shoulder. “No. I don’t want you to hate me after I tell you.”  _

_ “I won’t.”  _

_ Ricky sighed again and pressed his face into the crook of Riki’s neck. “It’s about my father. About the things he used to do to me.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The Pursuit of Love - The first novel in a trilogy written by Nancy Mitford, which chronicles the life and love foibles of an upper-class English family in the period between WWI and WWII. Mixing comedic and tragic elements it documents the characters' experiences with love, and the extent people will go to to find love, be happy, and keep up appearances. 
> 
> 2\. Victor's apartment - I did quite a bit of research on St. Petersburg to figure out for myself where I saw Victor living. I even looked at online listings of luxury apartments available in the city and there were quite a few in this area of the Tsentralny District. I liked the look of several particular buildings that were along the Moyka River and so that's where I decided to set his home base. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading! 
> 
> **Follow me on tumblr and twitter!**   
>  [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com/)   
>  [@martymuses](https://twitter.com/martymuses)


End file.
